


a fever dream

by Heroine (Evoxine)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Alternative Universe - FBI, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Gross and stupidly in love, Heavy Petting, I love them they're gross, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, Love at First Sight, M/M, Making Out, Mentions of Violence, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Pet Names, Rimming, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21533233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Heroine
Summary: Loki has always taken his work seriously, but ever since his bitter divorce, it became his entire life. He works methodically, skillfully, and does his utmost best to help his colleagues close cases and bring closure to the victims' friends and families. It's a routine, of sorts – same faces, same method, same outcomes. Loki likes routine.Except one day, his routine changes when he comes face to face with the new transfer.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 304
Collections: Thorki Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been such a pleasure to be a part of this year's Thorki Big Bang! I hope you enjoy this piece :)
> 
> Much love to my partner, [@girlgoneblack](https://girlgoneblack.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, whose art can be found [here](https://girlgoneblack.tumblr.com/post/189248602245/a-fever-dream-my-art-submission-for-evoxines-fic)!

It’s ass o’clock when Loki is rudely awakened by his blaring ringtone. Muttering a colourful string of curses under his breath, he rolls over and grabs his phone off his bedside table with a practised swipe. 

“ _What_.”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, I’m just the messenger.”

Loki’s feet are tangled up in his sheets, and when he fails to get them free after a few seconds of useless struggling, he’s ready to reach into the phone and strangle Fandral on the other end. A man has to get his frustrations out somehow, after all. 

“Where.”

“I’ll text you the address. It’s really fresh; I think you’d like this one! And oh, by the way, I think you should know that –”

Eyelids still firmly shut, Loki gives a grand roll of his eyes and hangs up on the agent. He lies there in bed for another minute or two, listening to the hum of his air conditioner and finding the willpower to peel an eyelid open. 

When he finally does, he sees that it’s still dark outside, the only light filtering in through the curtains belonging to the streetlights. Loki sighs, pushes himself upright, and begins the laborious task of getting his feet free. 

The first thing he does when he’s bodily out of bed is head into the kitchen, muscle memory doing the work for him and setting up a pot of coffee to brew. Then he heads into the bathroom, where he stands under a spray of scalding hot water until he goes from alabaster white to lobster red. 

After years of chronic lack of sleep and odd hours, Loki has discovered that this is the best way to get rid of the lingering sleepiness – by the time he steps out of the shower, he’s considerably less cranky and much more alert. He dresses, fixes his hair, and dabs a little of his favourite concealer underneath his eyes to hide the ever-present shadows. 

The strong scent of black coffee permeates the entire apartment and Loki gravitates to it. He fills a plastic Starbucks cup – a gift from Stephen because of how full the bins in the lab would get thanks to his coffee addiction – with his drug of choice and grabs his keys.

He climbs into his car, letting the engine run as he sips at his coffee. The sun is just about to break above the horizon, spilling shades of rusted bronze across the inky sky. Loki sits there, gazing up at the vast expanse of everything unknown, and momentarily wonders what it would be like living up there. 

Then his phone buzzes and Loki glances down at the screen to see a text from Shuri, his overly enthusiastic and overly qualified assistant. 

_i’m five mins out!_

And so Loki places his coffee cup into a holder, buckles his seatbelt, and presses down on the accelerator. 

  
Fandral’s there to greet him, standing by the taut line of police tape and looking much too chipper for a quarter-past-six on a Thursday morning. 

“Morning,” Loki says, ducking under the tape and falling into step with the special agent. “What do we have today?”

“Something weird,” is Fandral’s response. “Looks like it could be a cult thing? Probably a cult thing.” 

Loki slants his gaze over to the young man and raises a perfectly shaped brow. “You do know that it’s not in your best interest to jump to conclusions? If your dear SSA overhears–”

He gets a grin in response. “See, if you didn’t hang up on me, you’d know that my dear SSA is no longer my dear SSA.”

If Loki wasn’t distracted by Shuri running up to him with a pair of latex gloves, he would’ve asked Fandral to elaborate. But as it is, Shuri yanks insistently on his arm, pulling him into the house as she goes off about symbols and the five senses. It’s been over two years since he took her under his wing, and yet it still takes actual concentration for Loki to be able to keep up with her brilliant mind. 

Loki makes his way through the crime scene, side-stepping other police and forensic personnel, evidence markers, and various toolkits. He follows Shuri to the den, where people part to let him through to the body. Sif is there, her hair whipped up in her signature bun, and she gives Loki a tired grimace when he walks by.

The second he lays eyes on the body, everything Shuri has said suddenly makes sense. 

Male, approximately five foot ten, a hundred and forty pounds. Stripped naked, posed with his fingers interlaced over his navel. Not a single drop of blood surrounds his corpse. But that’s not all. 

There are intricate symbols branded down his sternum, five in a straight vertical line. His lips were sewn shut – Shuri had already snipped the stitches, and the lips are parted to reveal an empty mouth. The man’s tongue has been cut out. 

“Check this,” Shuri says, and hurries over to the other side. She turns the man’s head to the side and Loki’s eyes land on a spot where an ear should have been. Then, his gaze travels down to a rectangular patch of flesh, spanning the entire length of his neck. 

“The five senses,” Loki murmurs under his breath, slowly sinking down into a crouch. “Just like you said.”

Shuri grins at him, excitement radiating off her tiny frame. “So you agree! I have more theories, do you want to –”

“Hello.”

Loki blinks. He does not recognise that voice, and he recognises the voice of every single person he’s ever spoken to for more than five minutes. This voice is deep, rough but not grating, and pleasantly accented. 

He turns around and is momentarily stunned by an honest-to-god, hulking specimen of a man standing behind him. Shadows obscure the details of his features, but judging by the sharp line of his jaw and the faint glimmer of perfect teeth, Loki deduces that he’s probably stupidly good looking, too.

“Hi?”

“You’re Loki Laufeyson, the M.E., right? I’m SSA Odinson, the new transfer from upstate. I’ll be taking over this team from here on out. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you and I’m looking forward to working together.”

Loki stares up at Odinson’s extended hand – just as huge as the rest of him – and nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to accept the offer for a handshake. 

“Pleasure,” Loki says, rising up to his full height. Now, without Odinson’s height shielding the light, Loki can finally fill in the missing details of the man’s face. Saying that his eyes are as blue as the sky is putting it lightly, and Loki really can’t help the fact that he clings onto that large hand for a little longer than he should. 

When he regains his senses, Loki snatches his hand back and drops down to the floor. Wordlessly, Shuri passes him his work kit, and Loki instantly dreads heading back to the lab. He can tell that Shuri’s about to burst with everything she wants to say about the interaction she’s witnessing in front of her very eyes, and Loki does not want to deal with that, thank you very much. He just hopes that he isn’t blushing, because _god_ does Shuri take delight in it when he does.

The best distraction is work, so Loki gets right to it. 

“Approximate time of death is five hours ago. Clearly not killed here. There are two deep lacerations down the length of his inner thighs, likely done for exsanguination.” With a sharp click, he turns his trusty flashlight on and peels an eyelid back. Just as he expected, the sockets are empty. “The eyeballs have been removed using an instrument with a clean edge. When we get the body back to the lab, I’ll do a swab and see if Stephen can pick up any microscopic traces.”

He moves down to the mouth. “This thread isn’t the regular type you’d see in hospitals. A little on the thicker side, likely obtainable at any hardware store. Good suture method though, so I’m assuming the UnSub is either medical personnel or at least had some form of training. The tongue has been removed with a sharp blade, perhaps a scalpel? No jagged edges or signs of hesitation.”

“Same for the ear. Although I do wonder why he left one intact.” He waits for Shuri to take some samples before examining the wound on the neck. “Likewise, made with a sharp blade and precise movements. Everything you see here, from the missing eyeballs to the brands on his sternum, are done post-mortem. And from what I can tell, this UnSub knows what he’s doing – well, he knows his way around a blade and a body. It’s hard to separate the skin from the muscle so evenly like this.”

He’s just about to stand when he notices the tiny incision made below the last symbol on the deceased’s sternum. Frowning, he presses down on the spot and moves up. 

“There’s something inside. Small, but solid. Shuri, can I have –” A pair of scissors land on his outstretched palm. “Thanks.”

Everyone around him leans in, curious to see what he retrieves from beneath the scarred flesh. 

“It’s… a small, silver cross.” 

Loki drops the cross into an evidence bag and glances across the body at Shuri. “Alright, I want to get this back to the lab right now. There’s something clearly ritualistic about this and I want to make sure I go through every inch of this body, inside and out.”

With the help of Sif and Fandral, they load the body into the van. Shuri leaves first, the keys jingling cheerily in her hand as she climbs in and waves. Loki gets ready to follow in his car, but before he can step out of the house and cross the street, he’s stopped by a warm, solid weight on his shoulder.

“I like how you work, Dr. Laufeyson.” 

Loki curses his earlier decision to pull his hair back into a ponytail. Now his ears are bared for the world to see and he can already feel the tips flushing red. 

“Please just call me Loki. The title ‘Doctor’ makes me uncomfortable.” 

Odinson smiles and Loki wants to wax poetry over the faint beginnings of crow’s feet he sees forming at the corners of the SSA’s eyes. “Deal, but only if you call me Thor.”

All Loki can do is agree, so he does, and promptly feels his ears catch on fire from the way Odinson’s – no, Thor’s – smile grows wider.

“Right, well, SSA Odin – I mean, SS–” Loki stops and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thor. I have to head back to the lab. I’ll be leaving now.”

He spins on his heel and all but runs out of the door, pointedly ignoring the Cheshire grin he sees spreading across Sif’s face. _Stupid_ , he thinks, climbing into his car and starting the engine. _Shouldn’t have hung up on Fandral._

  
“So I heard that you lost all of your natural-born composure in front of our new boss.”

Loki chooses not to gift Stephen with a response. He’s been at the morgue for a little over two hours by now, busy wrapping up a routine autopsy that he was supposed to complete last week, and he’d expected the forensic toxicologist expert to barge in and say something the moment he stepped inside. 

He glares at Shuri instead, who simply laughs at him and returns to her work with the body they’d just picked up today. 

“Your samples are over there,” Loki says, pointing to the collection of evidence jars and sealed swabs resting on the table. “I’d like the analyses as soon as possible. Don’t forget to sign off.”

It’s a challenge to focus on stitching up the cadaver when he can hear Stephen’s footsteps inch closer and closer, each step intent on squeezing something out of Loki.

“I’m busy, Stephen.”

“You’re sewing up a dead body, Loki. I’m sure you can spare a minute or two.”

With a heavy sigh, Loki pulls the needle through flesh and mutters, “He’s not technically our boss. We aid several teams, you know.” After a pause, he continues with, “And I did not lose my composure.”

Shuri rolls across the room, the wheels of her chair clattering noisily over the flooring. “You looked like a goldfish staring at him for a whole five minutes. And I heard from Sif that you actually stumbled over your words when he complimented you.” 

When Loki finally resigns himself to the fact that this is actually happening and he should deal with it rather than avoid it, he looks up to see both Shuri and Stephen with matching shit-eating grins on their faces. 

“I hope you both realise that gossip is a form of poison,” Loki hisses. 

“I heard that he’s single,” Stephen says, clearly not giving a shit about the fact that Loki wants him to shut up. “Divorced, though. Something in common, eh?”

“He has a golden retriever named Mjolnir,” Shuri adds, “apparently named to match his own. So cute, right?”

And oh, how Loki hates the fact that yes, he does think it’s cute.

He finishes up the last few stitches and snips the thread, dropping the needle into an empty dish with a thin clang. 

“I cannot possibly fathom _why_ you think I need to know this.”

Stephen picks up the tray of samples with one hand and thumbs thoughtfully at his goatee with the other. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve heard it’s good to get to know the person you’re interested in before you start a relationship with them. But that could just be a rumour.”

Cackling, Stephen manages to run out of the morgue before Loki finds something suitable to throw at his head. 

  
The lack of a clock in the morgue is both a blessing and a curse. Shuri has long since left for home, leaving Loki behind to fill in paperwork and scour for any evidence she might have missed. He doesn’t know what time it is or how many hours he has gone without food – all he knows is that he needs to find as much information as he possibly can to help them with this case, because a murder this ritualistic is bound to occur again. 

Shuri’s notes highlight a vast number of healing bruises, so Loki follows up on that and goes over the body once more, noting down where the bruises are and how far along the healing process they appear to be. A self-proclaimed perfectionist, Loki is so caught up with pinpointing the exact position of a bruise on the body’s thigh that he doesn’t notice when the doors to the morgue slide open. 

“You’re still here?”

Loki yelps, hands flailing and sending his clipboard tumbling to the floor with a loud _thwack_. 

His heart is racing and he’s suddenly aware of how dry his eyes are. 

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me come in, since it’s almost eerily quiet in here.”

Loki stays frozen on his chair as Thor bends to pick up the clipboard, the agent even going as far as to smooth the crinkles in the paper out. 

“I work better when it’s quiet,” Loki says when his pulse finally slows. He accepts the clipboard and sets it down on his lap. “Why exactly are you here?”

One of Thor’s strong eyebrows lift. “Wow, she knows you very well.”

Loki’s confusion must be obvious, because Thor lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle that has the hairs on the back of Loki’s neck rising. 

“Shuri,” Thor clarifies. He leans against the edge of Loki’s desk and crosses those bulging biceps across his equally bulging chest. Loki thinks he should probably eat something. “When she left for the day, she dropped by to tell me that I should check up on you, otherwise you’ll lose track of time and spend the whole night here. She also said you’ll likely ask me what I’m doing down at the morgue, because apparently the team’s previous superior would rarely come down here. She’s right on both counts, it seems.”

There’s nothing Loki can say in response to that, so he just fixes Thor with a look and picks up his pen. “Right, you might as well make yourself useful if you’re here.” He gestures to the body and Thor closes the distance between them in four strides. That mere fact makes Loki’s head swim.

“Alright, what am I looking at?”

“Bruises,” Loki says, snapping right back into his working mode. “A lot of them. None are fresh, but we can’t rule out the possibility that the UnSub might still have been the one causing all of these. Some bruises have corresponding fractures in bone; I’ve found a couple on his clavicles –” Loki points to the spots on the body, “– as well as multiple broken and fractured middle ribs. You should also know that there are no signs of sexual assault.”

“Abuse?”

Loki hums, contemplative. “That’s what I thought too, until I noticed the state of his knuckles.” He reaches for a latex glove and snaps it on, then lifts one of the cadaver’s wrists for Thor to see. 

“Fights,” Thor deduces, noting the bruising on the knuckles. He glances over at Loki. “Street fighting?”

Nodding, Loki sets the hand back onto the table and scribbles down the words _street fights_. “Perhaps, yeah. The shape of the bruises aren’t consistent with a weapon, so hand-to-hand combat would be my conclusion.”

“That’s really quite helpful,” Thor says. “If he has a tendency to get into fights, revenge could very well be the motive.”

Loki’s just about to agree when his stomach lets out the most embarrassing rumble. Once it fades, Loki sighs and shuts his eyes. It’s been a long, trying day and this is not helping at all. 

Surprisingly, instead of joking about it, Thor’s expression remains serious when he asks when Loki last ate. 

“That would depend on what the time is.”

Thor checks his watch. “Twenty minutes to eleven.”

“Eleven at night?” Loki frowns. “Really?”

“Yes, Loki. So when was the last time you ate?”

“Four hours ago?”

Somehow, Thor doesn’t look convinced. “And what did you have?”

Loki presses his lips together. “...Coffee.”

The agent rolls his eyes – quite spectacularly, Loki has to admit – and plucks the clipboard out of Loki’s hands. “Let’s store the body and continue tomorrow, yeah? There’s this great diner ten minutes south of here, amazing burgers and shakes and all that.”

And so, a little baffled by how the past 48 hours have turned out, Loki wheels the body back into the fridge and lets Thor steer him out of the lab. 

  
“You don’t look like you’d be a special agent,” Loki blurts, three fries in one hand and a milkshake in the other.

Thor blinks, looking up from his mountain of a burger. “Thanks?”

Loki flushes and inhales a blob of melted ice cream through his straw. “I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. I mean, I probably look more like a mob boss instead of a medical examiner. In fact, Stephen told me once that if I wore a long cloak and let my hair down, I could pass off as a vampire.” He’s blabbering, he knows, but Loki’s so tired from work and overwhelmed from Thor’s larger-than-life presence that he just doesn’t care anymore. 

“A vampire?” Thor looks oddly interested in this line of conversation. “Why a vampire?”

Shrugging, Loki squeezes two blobs of ketchup onto his plate and drags his fries through one of them. “I’m pale and tall, I have sharp features, and I have a morbid job. That asshole makes me dress up like a vampire every year for Halloween.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki sees Thor set down his burger and dab at his mouth with a napkin. He braces himself for a laugh or even an agreement, but what comes out of Thor’s mouth is a casual, “I would go with the mob boss over the vampire. You’ve got that air about you, you know?”

“...Air?”

“Yeah, you command attention. In the best ways possible, I assure you.”

Thor says it so easily that Loki can’t take it in any other way except as a compliment. 

“I –” He licks a few flakes of salt off his lips. “Thank you.”

Those twinkling baby blues seem to smile at him and Loki can feel the rush of heat shooting up his face. So he tucks into his (extremely late) dinner and tries to focus solely on chewing his food. 

Alas, Thor thwarts his plan.

“You don’t really take care of yourself well, do you?”

Typically, Loki would have bristled at those words. But right now, he simply swallows his mouthful of food and meets Thor’s gaze. 

“It’s a flaw of mine, I suppose. I get very caught up in my work and I forget that I need to do certain things to survive. At least I close a lot of cases?”

Thor chuckles and sticks out his tongue to catch a falling piece of tomato. Loki looks away immediately.

“That you do. I’ve read up on some of your work; I’m particularly impressed with that farmhouse case that you handled a couple of years ago. A cold case for almost a decade and you solved it just by looking at some bones. Truly amazing.”

It’s not as if he’s unaccustomed to praise – after all, he _is_ very good at what he does and his colleagues have always given him credit when it’s due. But even after so many years, Loki’s still horrible at accepting it.

“It’s a team effort, really.”

“Mm, not what the lead detective on the case said when I spoke to him.”

Loki’s eyebrows shoot right up to his hairline. “You spoke to him? Didn’t he retire and move to another continent?”

He watches Thor polish off the rest of his burger and wipe his fingers clean. 

“He did, but technology is extremely helpful nowadays,” Thor grins, cheeky. 

“Oh, shut up,” Loki says, and fights to hide his smile. 

When Loki’s too full to eat another bite, Thor waves his protests aside and pays for their meal. “You can pay me back by heading home and getting a good night’s rest. I can’t pull rank with you and order you to get a solid seven hours of sleep, but I think I can guilt-trip you into doing so.”

After they bid each other goodnight and Loki climbs into his car, he spends a good thirty seconds simply sitting there and organizing his thoughts. It turns out that Thor’s right – he can guilt-trip him into not sneaking back to the lab for a couple more hours of work, a fact soon-to-be proven, because Loki can feel himself choosing to go home instead. 

Sure enough, he starts the car with a resigned sigh and puts it into drive. He drives home. 

  
For the first time in a long time, Loki wakes up from hunger. 

A little disoriented at the unfamiliar gnawing sensation in his stomach, he heads into the kitchen and stares into his empty refrigerator. Apart from a jug of orange juice, a few eggs, cream cheese, and a pack of bagels that is definitely way past its expiration date, everything else inside his fridge are condiments. 

Loki shuts his eyes, counts to ten, and opens them again. Alas, nothing edible magically appears inside, and so the next best solution he can think of is to send a message to Shuri. He might have to suffer through her nagging for the first ten minutes of work, but if that means this stupid hunger goes away, he’ll willingly deal with it. 

_Can you grab me something on the way to work? I have nothing in my fridge._

_u????? want bfast??? bro i GOT u_

Loki frowns at his screen. Sometimes it’s so hard to reconcile the fact that his assistant and the person behind her phone are one and the same.

With breakfast sorted, Loki sets his coffee to brew and disappears into the shower. 

He has one leg in his pants, water dripping off the ends of his hair and running down his back when his doorbell buzzes. Loki never gets visitors, and the sound of his own doorbell, unfamiliar and loud, startles him so much he loses his balance and crashes into the sink. 

“Fuck.” That’s going to leave an ugly bruise – one that’ll no doubt take a whole month to heal because Loki’s body hates him and always clings on to bruises. Once, a lover gave him a hickey right on the side of his neck that lingered for a week. Shuri still refuses to let him forget that incident and Stephen has a photo of it framed somewhere. 

Struggling into the other pant leg, Loki hobbles to the door and yanks it open, expecting to see some door-to-door salesperson or his neighbour who always loses her cat. Instead, there on his old doormat, stands Thor. 

Loki gapes – rather unattractively, a voice in the back of his mind tells him – at the agent and the paper bag currently held out in front of his face.

“Uh?”

“Shuri told me you were hungry,” Thor informs him kindly. It’s barely eight in the morning and Loki can’t quite figure out how Thor is already sunnier than the sun itself. 

“I told _her_ I was hungry. I didn’t think she’d ask _you_ to buy me breakfast, much less deliver it to my doorstep.” Loki groans, already thinking of a way to throttle her without hurting her. 

When Thor gives the bag a little shake, Loki resigns himself to the fact that he’ll be eating 1) breakfast, and 2) breakfast delivered by SSA Odinson. He’s so caught up in those thoughts that it takes far too long for him to realise that he doesn’t have a shirt on. 

He all but snatches the bag out of Thor’s hand and retreats into his house. 

“Thank you,” he says, cheeks flaming. He clutches the bag to his chest. “For taking time out of your day just to bring me breakfast. Uh, would you like to come in for some coffee? Freshly brewed and all.”

Thor accepts, toeing off his shoes at the door before following Loki inside. 

As soon as the bottom of the paper bag meets the surface of his kitchen counter, Loki escapes to his room. “I’ll be right back,” he calls, already turning a corner and disappearing from Thor’s view. 

He grabs a black shirt and pulls it on, then runs his towel through his hair a few more times. A glance into the mirror shocks him – he pulls his hair back into a ponytail and slaps at his cheeks to bring some blood up to the surface. 

This is as good as it’s going to get, he tells himself, and ventures back out into the kitchen. Thor’s out of his suit jacket, starched shirt stretched across broad shoulders and tucked neatly into a shiny belt. The agent’s attention is on the wall, where a large, abstract painting is displayed. 

“My sister’s work,” Loki says by way of an explanation. “She’s an artist.”

He grabs two mugs out of the cupboard – one shaped like a pug’s face and one that has _Best Medical Examiner_ printed across the surface – and fills both with coffee. “Milk and sugar?”

“Sure.” Thor slides onto one of the barstools and watches as Loki prepares their coffees. “Nice pug mug.”

“It was a gift. Given to me just so they could hear me say those exact words.”

“Which words?”

Loki wrinkles his nose. “‘Pug mug’. For some reason, it’s funny to others when I say that.”

“I wouldn’t say funny.” Thor accepts the pug mug and takes a sip of his coffee, humming in satisfaction when the flavours hit his taste buds. “Endearing, perhaps.”

In his three decades of life, Loki has never met someone like Thor – the man has an uncanny ability to leave him tongue-tied over the littlest things and it drives Loki absolutely insane, because he has no clue how to deal with it.   
  
Thankfully, it doesn’t seem as though Thor wants a response. He’s perfectly content with his coffee and the pug mug, if the newly saved photos on his phone are any indication. 

Loki reaches for the bag and looks inside to see a neatly wrapped bagel. 

“I wasn’t quite sure what you liked, so I made a decision based on what you had last night. No tomatoes, a lot of spinach, egg whites, gruyere cheese. Oh, and a wholewheat bagel.”

“You, uh,” Loki begins, unwrapping the bagel. At the sight of the sandwich in all of its gloriousness, his stomach lets out a happy growl. “You make a good agent.”

When Thor winks at him over the rim of the pug mug, Loki sinks his teeth into the bagel and swallows a whine. 

  
“Got anything?”

Stephen, his hair a mess and jaw dotted with day-old stubble, doesn’t look up from the computer screen when Loki walks in. He doesn’t even greet Loki – instead, Loki gets a very enthusiastic one-armed hug from Tony Stark, the recently retired self-proclaimed genius and forensic expert.

“Laufeyson! King of the Morgue! How have you been?”

“Stark,” Loki replies, returning the hug with a few stiff pats to the man’s back. “Why do you still insist on calling me by that title?”

“You’re as skilled in the morgue as I am – _was_ – in the lab,” Tony says with a shrug. “You can’t deny that we made a very formidable team.”

When Tony finally removes his arm from around his shoulders, Loki moves a few steps backwards and rests his weight on Stephen’s cluttered desk. “I’m not denying that. But why are you here, exactly? Shouldn’t you be out in the world and enjoying your newfound freedom?”

That has Stephen grunting into the heel of his hand. “He thinks I’m going to burn the lab down.”

Loki grins, uncovering a stress ball in the shape of a heart from the mess behind him. He chucks it at the back at Stephen’s head and raises his hands in victory when it bounces perfectly off the crown. “Valid concern, I’d say.”

The only response he gets is Stephen’s straightened middle finger and some rapid clicking on the mouse. 

“So,” Tony says casually. “I hear Odinson’s the new boss of that ragtag bunch upstairs.”

The lab isn’t private by any means and the three of them are definitely not the only ones there. Loki really doesn’t want this line of conversation to continue, especially since Tony is never subtle and likes to make a statement out of anything he finds interesting. 

So Loki decides to keep his answer brief. “Yes, he is.”

Unfortunately, Tony is someone who doesn’t need prompting in order to carry on a conversation. 

“I know his parents well. Mother’s a sweet woman, but his father is a bit of an asshole. Their sons turned out great though, huh?”

“Sons?”

Tony strolls over to where the stress ball landed and picks it up. 

“Thor has a younger brother. Not as tall, not as big, and not as cute, but still pretty fine. If you were wondering.” Tony leers at him and Loki rolls his eyes. 

“I wasn’t.”

A chuckle, and then Tony’s tossing the stress ball back at him. Loki catches it with one hand. 

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t care much for the younger brother; I hear the superior Odinson brought you breakfast today. How sweet of him.”

How on Earth did news travel this fast? Maybe he should confiscate Shuri’s phone and give her a pager in replacement. 

“Alright,” Loki says, setting the stress ball down. Stephen sniggers to himself, the sound somewhat muted by his fingers flying over the keyboard. “All of you need to learn what boundaries are and how embarrassing workplace gossiping is.” 

He leaves without giving the other two a chance to reply, but he’s pretty sure he hears Stephen saying, “I _love_ seeing him flustered. So nice to see those pretty feathers of his ruffled.”

Loki’s cheeks stay red throughout the entire journey back to the morgue.

  
Loki’s busy typing up a report when Hogun announces his arrival with a very loud and very enthusiastic HELLO. Having worked with him for close to five years, Loki has long since gotten used to the man’s exuberance. But Shuri, who has only been here for a year, still jumps a mile into the air whenever Hogun drops by. 

“Son of a – _Hogun_! Fuck, now I have to redraw this because I drew a big, squiggly line across the paper. Thank you very much.”

The sound of paper ripping fills the room and Loki swivels around in his chair to see Hogun grin sheepishly at her, tie missing from around his neck as usual. There’s a manila folder in his hand and Loki’s curiosity immediately sparks. 

“Have you got something?”

Hogun nods, patting Shuri on the shoulder in apology before striding over to where Loki’s seated. He hands the file over and Loki flips it open to see a sheath of notes, all handwritten and impeccably neat. There are highlighted chunks of text and annotations down the margins. 

“It’s a compilation of the interviews we’ve conducted with Mr. Harvey’s family and friends. The highlighted bits are the important bits, according to Thor. He thinks you’d be interested with what’s in there.”

Metal scrapes against the tiled floor and Shuri comes up to them, a mischievous light in her eyes when she nudges Hogun and asks, “Why didn’t Thor come down himself?”

Loki flips a page with more strength than necessary and slices his finger open with the edge of a sheet of paper. He swears, drops the file, and sticks his finger into his mouth. Shuri, that brat, looks like she’s _this close_ to cackling.

“Hogun, please just sum it up for me.” Loki wheels over to where he keeps a stash of bandages – when you work with sharp tools on a daily basis, you need a stash – and picks one out of the box. 

“Well, from what we’ve gathered, it seems that Harvey had a habit of getting into fights with strangers. We checked with hospitals and clinics close to his area of residence, and records show that he was definitely a regular. Stitches, concussions, fractures, all that jazz. He used to frequent clubs and pubs, but his friends say that in recent months, he hasn’t been out with them.” Hogun straightens out the papers and sets the file on Loki’s desk. “The kicker? He was still getting beat up somewhere.”

That little tidbit is so interesting that Loki instantly forgets the throbbing pain in his finger. Stopped going to clubs and still gets into fights? 

“Any police reports? I’m only interested in reports after he stops going out with his friends. If he –”

A large hand waves theatrically mere inches from the tip of his nose and Loki leans away automatically.

“Thor has already told Sif to find that out. When we get something, you’ll be the…” Loki watches in mild amusement as Hogun ticks off each member of his squad. “Fifth to know. Maybe the sixth, if the Assistant Director happens to pop by at the right time.”

With that, Hogun leaves the morgue, bidding the both of them goodbye with a cheery wave. 

The second he disappears from view, Loki rounds on Shuri, bandaged finger pointing at the spot right between her eyebrows. “Keep on dragging Thor into the conversation and I will bench you from conducting your own autopsies for a week.”

She pouts, but it’s clear that she doesn’t think Loki will go through with his threat at all. Loki exhales heavily and wonders exactly what crime he committed in his past life to be subjected to such childish behaviour. 

  
Eight days after the first body, a second one is discovered. 

Loki gets the call in the middle of the day and he arrives at the crime scene to see half a dozen news vans already parked out front, cameras out and microphones at the ready. With his trusty sunglasses on, Loki gets out of the vehicle, grabs his kit, and makes sure Shuri is ready to go before he makes a beeline for the house. 

One of the field agents lets them under the cordon and informs them that the body is up on the second floor. Loki thanks her and heads in, where he’s immediately stopped by Sif. 

“White male, thirty-four, five-foot-nine.” She hands them each a pair of gloves and gestures upstairs. “Much like the previous crime scene, there are no signs of forced entry and no evidence that he was killed here. From what we can tell, everything else is identical to the first body. Odds are, this victim will have a similar lifestyle to our first.”

They take the stairs two at a time. Sif leads them towards the study, where Loki nearly trips over one of the forensic techs who’s busy hunting for prints. In fact, he’s only saved from smashing his face into the edge of the desk by a strong hand around his bicep – a strong hand that belongs to a strong man by the name of Thor Odinson. 

For a moment, Loki wonders if he’s living out a soap opera. 

“You alright?”

“Yes, thank you.” It takes all of Loki’s willpower to not look in Shuri’s direction. “So I’m assuming you’ll be classifying this as a serial?”

“I am. Do you agree?”

Thor lets go of him and Loki moves to kneel by the body, eyes roaming over the deceased from head to toe. From the empty eye sockets to the symbols down the sternum, everything is, like Sif said, identical. 

“I would agree, yes. I will have to return to – wait.” He leans in and takes a better look at the man’s chest. “Shuri. Do you see this?”

An inch above the first symbol are two small cuts, too straight and even for them to be anything but deliberate. Shuri squints at the marks and Loki watches her eyebrows knit together behind the frame of her glasses. 

“I think,” she says slowly, “I need to see pictures of the first body.”

Loki is just about to reach for his phone when Thor offers him his. “Here, use mine. The photos for the first body are all in this folder.” There’s a small crack running from the top left corner of the screen down to the bottom right corner, but Loki soon forgets all about it when he finds a photograph of the first victim’s chest and zooms in. 

“The UnSub is numbering his kills.”

Thor, who had gone to speak with one of the techs, whirls around and utters a sharp, “He’s doing what?”

Shifting aside to make room for Thor, Loki runs a gloved finger over the two small incisions. “See these?” When Thor nods, Loki hands him the phone and points to the same spot on the photograph. “It’s not as clear as I would like it to be, but I’m quite positive that’s an incision as well. A single incision.”

“Roman numerals,” Shuri mumbles to herself, twisting around to grab a ruler from her kit. 

This single discovery changes many things. By numbering his kills, it suggests the UnSub has a personal quota he intends to fill. That, combined with the characteristics of the two victims, indicates that the UnSub has a very specific idea of the type of individual that fits the mould. A hunter is out there, looking for the perfect victim to add to his list. 

“The UnSub has a plan,” Thor says, running a hand through his cropped hair. “A vision. He’s not going to stop until he fulfils it.”

“Or we catch him.” 

Thor turns to look at Loki. Their faces are close together, close enough for Shuri to start up with the teasing when they’re alone, but for the moment, Loki doesn’t care.

“Or we catch him,” Thor agrees, the blue of his eyes an electric flame. 

  
Unsurprisingly, Loki finds a plethora of healing bruises on the second victim. He suspects Stephen will find the same substances inside the second victim’s bloodstream as he did in the first – extremely high levels of pentobarbital. 

It’s some form of comfort, Loki supposes, knowing that the victims were unconscious when the UnSub did all types of fucked up shit to them. Both files are open on the desk in front of him, and Loki has been poring over them for the past few hours. His eyes are dry, his head is throbbing, and he really needs a large cup of coffee. 

“I’m going to get some coffee,” he announces, taking off his glasses and pressing on the pressure points between his eyes. “You want anything?”

“An energy drink would be great,” Shuri mumbles. “Or three. The large cans, if you will?”

“...I’ll get you a coffee,” Loki says. Shuri seems too tired to protest. 

His first stop is the cafeteria, but one look at the crowd and he makes a quick detour to the nearby vending machines. Loki takes his own sweet time, engaging himself in a mental debate between a latte and a cappuccino. In the end, he decides to get one of each, intending to let Shuri choose between the two while he takes the rejected choice. 

A dollar, another dollar, yet another dollar, two nickels… wait. 

Loki rests his forehead against the machine and tries not to pop a blood vessel. He’s a dime short. 

“How much do you need?”

Of course, the person that comes to his rescue is the one and only Thor Odinson. By this point, Loki is convinced he’s living out a soap opera. Loki peels himself off the machine and turns to Thor. “A dime.”

“I’ve got a dime.”

Of course, Thor Odinson has a dime that he’s willing to give Loki for his coffees. 

Loki moves aside to let Thor slot the coin into the machine. There’s a click, then a whir, and Loki catches a blessed whiff of coffee. 

“Long day?”

Thor’s tie has been loosened and the buttons of his cuffs are undone. Thanks to the rolled-up sleeves, Loki gets to see strong forearms dusted with golden hair, and he attributes it entirely to exhaustion when he starts thinking about that arm pinning him against a wall. Or perhaps down on a bed. 

“Yeah,” he says, wetting his lips. He rips his gaze off those arms and stares at the thin stream of coffee trickling out of the machine and into the styrofoam cup. “Very long day.”

The machine splutters, a signal that the first cup has been filled. Thor lifts it out of the holder and passes it over to Loki, who despite his best efforts, can’t help but let their fingers brush when he takes it. 

“Thanks.”

Thor hums. He slides a hand into his front pocket and the way the muscles in his forearm cord up is frankly obscene. “What a way to start off my time here, huh? This case is… something else.”

Loki has to agree. “One of the more puzzling ones, even for me. We need to figure out where and how the UnSub is selecting his victims. It doesn’t look like they were blitz attacks, so his victims are likely not a result of opportunity. Does he stalk them? Grab them when they least expect it? Or does he know them? Maybe the victims invite him into their home. Is it a coincidence that both men live alone?”

The machine spits out the last few drops of coffee and Loki follows Thor’s movements with his eyes as the latter reaches for the cup. 

“We’ll solve it,” Thor says, moving to the next vending machine and selecting a bag of pretzels. He drops his coins in and looks over his shoulder at Loki. “We’ll get this guy.”


	2. Chapter 2

A possible break in the case comes a week after the discovery of the second body. Bruce, one of the many computer geniuses hired by the agency, sends an email to everyone involved in the case. In the email, there is a video file attached, and it turns out to be a clip from a cab’s dashboard camera. _Andrews’ last credit card transaction was for this cab ride_ , Bruce’s email says, _and this is where he was dropped off. I combed through street cams nearby and after he steps foot into that warehouse off to the left, he doesn’t reappear again._

The street looked busy, filled with pedestrians and cars that come and go despite the late hour. The footage also shows multiple people entering the warehouse, some alone and some in pairs or small groups. 

It’s unlikely that murders are happening in such a populated area, not where it’s much easier for a passerby to witness something. But if this is the last place Andrews was seen, then it’s something that should be checked out. 

Mere hours after receiving the email, Thor mobilizes his team. 

“So, Boss.”

Thor glances into the rearview mirror and raises an eyebrow at Sif. “You know I don’t want you to call me that.”

“Boss,” Sif repeats, a grin already spreading across her face. Thor rolls his eyes. “How are you liking it here?”

“It’s been good,” Thor says carefully. “A nice change of environment.”

“Yeah? People here treating you well?”

“I have no complaints.” He makes a left and cuts in front of a Lexus. “Why do I feel like you have a specific question that you want to ask?”

Sif hums, the sound far too innocent for Thor’s liking. He sees her exchange a knowing look with Fandral and steels himself for what’s to come. 

“Is there anyone in particular that has been treating you _exceptionally_ well?”

As soon as the car slows to a stop at a red light, Thor twists around in his seat and fixes Sif with a look. “I’m not answering that question.”

She pouts. “Aw, you’re no fun.”

“Don’t you guys have better things to discuss? Like this case, for example?”

He hears Sif’s exaggerated sigh, but before she can try to argue, they arrive at their destination. It’s impressive, how quickly she goes from wanting to squeeze out some gossip to being the first one all suited up. 

Thor takes one look at the darkened windows and a _Do Not Enter_ sign strung across the front door on a chain. “Doesn’t look like they want people coming in, at least not right now. Sif, with me. You two take the back door.”

Civilians move out of their way, their fight or flight instincts activated at the sight of bulletproof vests and loaded weapons. Sif peers into one of the windows only to shake her head a few seconds later and say, “Can’t see much, but doesn’t look like anyone’s inside.”

Thor bangs on the door, but no one answers. He’s just about to try again when Hogun’s voice crackles in his earpiece. “I see traces of blood on the floor, quite a bit of it. Definitely caused by something more than a paper cut. Also looks like someone tried half-assedly to clean it up.”

“Sounds like a possible crime scene,” Sif comments, already reaching into one of her pockets. When she pulls out a lockpicking kit, Thor does a double-take. 

Sif elbows past him to get to the door. “What,” she says nonchalantly. “It’s called being prepared, Boss. We have reasonable grounds – I don’t suppose you want to wait around for a warrant?”

When she’s right, she’s right. 

So Thor lets Sif do her thing, watching curiously as she selects the needed tools and wriggles them into the keyhole. Miraculously, it takes her less than a minute to get it open. 

“Impressed, are you?”

Thor pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Sif, very impressed. Now, may we please get back to work?”

They clear the front of the warehouse together before splitting up – Sif heads towards the back rooms to let Hogun and Fandral in while Thor heads downstairs. The place is empty, but there are clear indicators of recent activity within these walls. Aside from the bloodstains, there are dozens of stacked chairs against the walls and scuff marks all over the floor. Hogun opens a steel cabinet to find bottles of water lined up in neat rows. 

“Is this some sort of club?”

“Doesn’t look very… inviting,” Fandral muses, neatly sidestepping a streak of dried blood.

“It’s a club alright,” Thor says, reappearing on the stairs. He’s got a grim look on his face and his phone already pressed to an ear. “Maria? Hey, can you send a forensics team to my location? Send Loki too, if he’s free. Yeah, thanks.”

Once the call ends, he gestures to the other three. “Come take a look at this.”

  
There are forensic techs all over the warehouse, armed to the teeth with cotton swabs as they collect sample after sample of blood. Loki, feeling a little out of place at a potential crime scene with no actual job to do, stands at Thor’s side and stares at the sight in front of him.

“This is a cage,” Loki says flatly. He walks the perimeter of the cage, one slow step at a time. He’s halfway around when it dawns on him. “This is a _fighting_ cage. For humans.”

Through the wiring, he sees Thor nod. “Yes, that is also the conclusion I arrived at. In fact, I think we are in an underground fight club.” 

Much like the rest of the warehouse, there are patches of dried blood on the floor within the ring. If this really is an illegal fighting club, then blood is definitely an expected sight. 

“Supposing our victims were both here and participated in fights, then that would explain the injuries,” Loki muses, coming to a stop a couple of feet away from Thor. 

“We’ll have to look into that, yeah. Track down where they’ve been over the past month, see if their paths overlap and if any of the blood samples we’ve collected here are a match. If they’ve both been here, I think it’s safe to say that this is a solid lead.” 

Lost in thought, Loki hooks a gloved finger through a gap in the cage and plucks at the wire. “Yes, but even if they’ve both been here, fighting is not the cause of death. Besides, I see no bloodstain here large enough to represent the amount of blood they would have lost from their severed femoral arteries.”

Thor voices his agreement. “This is definitely not a murder scene, but I’m certain that there is a connection here. Only time and effort will tell.”

Having seen what he came to see, Loki carefully makes his way out of the basement and up the stairs, Thor close behind. They head outside, not wanting to hinder the techs’ work by staying inside. 

“I don’t have a good feeling about this case,” Loki mutters, pulling off his gloves and pocketing them. “Everything about this UnSub screams organized, planned, careful. So many criminals are caught because they slip up, because they’re not careful enough to account for potential evidence that could lead back to them. But this guy…” He lets the rest of his sentence hang, raking a hand through his hair with a sigh.

Thor’s hand comes to rest on Loki’s nape, fingertips pressed to the side of his neck as his thumb settles into the groove behind Loki’s ear. He squeezes – an act of comfort or encouragement, Loki doesn’t quite know – and Loki fights back a shudder. 

It seems like forever before Thor removes his hand. Loki misses the touch instantly. 

Loki reaches into his pocket for his keys. If he stays here any longer, it’s very likely he’ll get a headache from thinking about the case – or from Thor’s proximity. “Thanks for the call. The idea of illegal fights certainly leaves me with something to think about.” 

“Leaving so soon?”

After a brief internal debate, Loki looks over his shoulder at Thor. The sun is out in full force today, beaming down at them as it celebrates the lack of clouds, and Thor seems to soak up the sunny goodness, letting it melt into his hair and skin. The sight of him in all his golden glory has Loki regretting his choice instantly – Loki wonders if it’s possible to be blinded by this man. 

It doesn’t help that even the faint stubble along Thor’s jawline catches the light, either. Loki’s eyes are drawn to a supple bottom lip, and the instant he wonders if Thor would taste like sunlight, he feels his ears heat up. 

“I uh, yeah, I should probably head back and start looking at –”

“Boss!”

Sif’s voice has them looking over to where she is, hunched over a pile of garbage spread out on the sidewalk, courtesy of an overturned public bin. It looks like she has something pinched between two fingers. 

They head over, Loki pocketing his keys along the way. 

“What did you find?”

It’s a crumpled piece of torn paper. She smooths it out on her palm and holds it out for them to see. Scribbled on it is the address for the warehouse, along with a date and time. 

“The date and time correlate with the footage Bruce found, but that’s not all. See this logo here?” She points to the corner of the paper. “It’s not complete, but I think it’s the logo of a bar in the Upper East Side.”

Thor takes a picture of the logo with his phone and is just about to send it to Bruce when Loki speaks up.

“I know what bar that is.” He gestures to Thor’s phone. “May I?”

Moments later, Loki turns the phone around to show the agents what he’d pulled up on Google. “ _Tesseract_. It’s a high-end bar in the Upper East Side, just like Sif said. They keep good records of everything – CCTV footage, receipts, even a terribly well-organised Lost and Found section.”

Thor studies the photos of the bar. “You’ve been here?”

“Yes, but not recently. Why?”

“I’d like to go and chat with the owner. Would you like to join me?”

Sif grabs an evidence bag from a passing tech and drops the slip of paper inside. “Here you go,” she says, stuffing it into Thor’s jacket pocket. “You guys go ahead, I’ll stay back here with the boys and make sure the techs get everything.”

She gives them a beatific smile and Loki feels his eye twitch.

In the end, Loki finds himself behind the wheel of his convertible, Thor snug in the passenger seat. They drive in easy silence, with Thor gazing out the window at the passing city as soft music fills the space. It smells nice inside the car – light floral and woodsy notes –, and Loki can’t help but wonder if it’s Thor’s cologne or his shampoo.

“I’ve never been to that part of town,” Thor says absently. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki sees the agent smile at a little toy poodle strutting down the sidewalk. Something seizes him by the heart and yanks. “How did you discover the _Tesseract_?”

Loki grimaces. “I… grew up in that area. I was out of the country for my degrees, but when I got married, my wife wanted a place there as well, so –”

“You’re married?”

He can feel Thor’s stare against his cheek, searing hot. 

“I _was_ married. We parted ways nearly three years ago.”

A beat, then Thor clears his throat and says, “I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Loki shrugs. “It is what it is. She was always insecure about my sexuality, always assumed I would leave her for a man just because she could not give me – and I quote – what a man could.” He pauses to look in his mirrors, blinker on as he switches lanes. “Ironically, she was the one who ended up cheating. After all that, it really wasn’t hard to leave.”

“Thanks for trusting me with that information.”

Glancing over, Loki sees Thor leaning forward in his seat, face slightly hidden from the strands of hair that have escaped the tight hold of its elastic. 

“What information? My divorce? Divorces are regrettably common nowadays.”

“You’re right, I have one of my own. But no, I meant your sexuality.”

One more turn and _Tesseract_ comes into view. The roads are busy today, but it’s pure luck that they arrive just as a parking spot becomes available, and Loki slides into it with a sharp twist of the wheel. Only after the engine shuts off does he speak. 

“It’s pretty much common knowledge at the office. I actually assumed someone would’ve told you by now.”

They climb out of the car, doors shutting within milliseconds of the other. Loki locks it and leads the way into the bar, acutely aware of Thor’s proximity every step of the way. The interior is painfully familiar – one glance at the blue lights that highlight the minimal décor of the establishment is enough to bring back all the repressed memories of his failed marriage. 

At least the memories are of the better days, Loki supposes, and makes a beeline for the bartender. The bar is quite empty at this time of the day; a single tap of his nails against the black marble countertop is all it takes to catch the bartender’s attention. 

“...Mr. Laufeyson? Is that you?”

“Ah, Josephine, I thought I told you all those years ago to call me Loki?” Loki takes a seat and accepts the glasses of iced water that Josie slides across the counter. He passes one to Thor. “Been a while, huh?”

Loki runs through the math in his head: it’s been two years and ten months since the last time he stepped foot inside _Tesseract_. If his memory serves him well, his last visit was on a Tuesday, right after he left the divorce papers on the kitchen counter, along with his house keys and wedding ring. It rained that night.

“Have you been well?”

Bartenders have a knack for spotting life problems – Loki learned that lesson a long time ago. 

“Work’s as good as my work can get,” Loki answers, mind instantly flying to the case at hand. 

When he doesn’t provide any further information, Josie raises a sharp eyebrow and clicks her tongue. 

“You didn’t go running back to the horrid woman, did you?”

Loki nearly chokes on a mouthful of water. “What – of course not!” 

“Just making sure,” Josie shrugs. “She broke your heart, that woman. I haven’t seen her since I last saw you, but I’m still prepared to spit in her drink.” Her gaze finally moves from Loki over to Thor – she scans him from head to toe and hums in approval. “Well, I suppose you have to reason not to run back to Sigyn, huh?”

This time, Loki actually chokes on his water. Thor tries to be helpful and thumps him on the back, but Loki thinks it does more harm than good – a hypothesis proved right when Josie leans in and says, “Is he your new beau?”

“If by ‘beau’ you mean _colleague_ ,” Loki clears his throat, “then yes.”

Josie pouts and her shoulders slump. “That’s not as fun.”

Thor chooses that moment to speak up. “Unfortunately, we’re not here for fun. I have something I’d like to ask you, if that’s alright.” He pulls two sheets of neatly folded paper out of his pocket and smooths them out on the counter. They’re passport photos of the victims, blown up to fill the page. “Dane Harvey and Bill Randall. Do you recognise either of them?”

Bartenders also have a knack for remembering faces. This is a lesson that Loki learns now.

“Mm,” Josie taps the photo of Victim #2, her manicured nail shimmering under the mood lights. “He came in a couple of weeks ago for the first time. Well, the first time during my shifts. Looked real out of place and stuff, but you could tell he tried his best to fit in with the typical… clientele. Not sure about the other guy, but I’ll get you the number of the other bartenders so you can ask them.”

“Great, thank you. Is there anything else?”

“Oh, I wasn’t done, you ridiculously handsome devil.”

One look at Thor’s surprised expression has Loki snorting in laughter. “Jo, just tell the poor guy what he wants to know. I have to get back to work, you know.”

“Alright, alright. Yeah, he ordered a gin and tonic right off the bat, but took one sip and nearly spat it out. He didn’t end up ordering anything else, just sat there –” She points to one of the barstools as she crosses over to the sink, “– for a good fifteen minutes or so. Then someone walked past and set a napkin down in front of him. He took it and left.”

Thor and Loki exchange looks. 

“This napkin person – did you get a good look at him?”

Glasses clink gently against each other when Josie takes them out of a dishwashing rack and arranges them on a shelf. Each glass has been washed and polished until they’re practically sparkling.

“Wasn’t a guy,” she sing-songs. “It was a woman.”

  
The last week has been hectic, to say the very least. 

Thor and his team spend most of their working hours canvassing the streets, armed with a facial composite of the mystery woman that Josie had helped them piece together. Back in the office, Bruce enlists Shuri’s help in scanning footage obtained from _Tesseract_ ’s CCTV cameras. 

But while his colleagues work themselves to the bone over the serial murders, Loki has to spend time on a separate case. Local police wanted help on a suspicious death and Loki’s morgue was the only one not backed up, so he reluctantly pushes the two cases aside and busies himself with the new autopsy. 

To his delight, the autopsy is straightforward – two days later and he’s already handing over his report to the detective in charge of the case. The joy is short-lived, however, because the detective appears the very next day and insists Loki’s ruling of a suicide is incorrect.

Dumbfounded, Loki ends up going through the entire autopsy process, interjecting whenever the detective attempts to bring up a far-fetched explanation for the bruises around the deceased’s neck and torn-up nails. 

He tries his best to accommodate the detective, but when he’s asked to re-examine the body for the fifth time, Loki’s patience runs thin. 

“My job is not to prove that your theories are right, Detective Larssen,” Loki snaps. He gestures for Shuri to wheel the cadaver back into storage. “My job is to use my expertise in determining the cause of death. I am extremely good at what I do – I do not make mistakes, much less in an uncomplicated case like this. If my findings do not match up with your theories, I suggest you start looking at others.”

With that, he leaves the morgue and heads to the first place in the building he can think of. 

The team’s bullpen is empty, but Loki simply assumes that Thor and his team are once again out on the streets. His attention is drawn by the board to the side of the room, filled with photos and print-outs; all evidence from the serial murders. 

He grabs an empty chair and plants himself right in front of the board. Hours later, that’s how Sif finds him. 

“Damn, Loki, what have you been doing? Your hair is a mess.”

“It’s been three weeks and we’re no closer to finding this guy.” Frustrated, Loki runs a hand through his – messy – hair and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. 

She pinches his cheek – Loki half-heartedly bats her hand away – and says, “It’s a tough case, but none of us are ready to give up yet. The victims only have us left.”

“I know.”

He hears Sif move around, hears a drawer opening and closing followed by a few clacks of the keyboard keys. The legs of a desk chair bump against the desk and Loki looks over his shoulder to see her packing up. 

“You should go home, take a hot bath, and eat some dinner. You do realise it’s past eight?”

Loki mumbles something along the lines of _yeah, okay_ and Sif leaves for the night. But he doesn’t go home. Instead, he stays in his seat for another ten, fifteen, thirty minutes, until someone else walks in and says his name. 

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

Thor’s perched on the edge of a desk, shadows visible under his eyes and a half-finished bottle of water in his hands. It’s clear he’s exhausted, but there’s something in his gaze that tells Loki he would go right back out on the streets if his body could handle it. 

“How did it go out there today?”

A disappointed shrug is all Loki needed for an answer. He sighs. 

His head has been throbbing for the past hour or so and steadily increasing in intensity, and now, as he presses down on the pressure points between his eyes, he can feel pain pulsing everywhere. 

“This case is by no means the longest case I’ve worked nor the most harrowing one, but somehow, it’s the most aggravating one.”

Thor undoes the top two buttons of his shirt and straightens to his full height. 

“You need to rest. You’ve been strung out for days and your mind hasn’t had a chance to really take a break. I heard that you recently worked a case for the local PD?”

The thought of that goddamn case has Loki grimacing. Surprisingly, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Thor.

“Ah, it seems I’ve struck a nerve.” He pushes up his sleeves, scratches at his stubble, and reaches across Loki to turn the board around. Then he fixes Loki with a look. “Go home, Lo. You’re invaluable and we need you at your best.”

 _Lo_. The pet name (!) has him flabbergasted, leaving him slack-jawed and red-cheeked. 

He’s still thinking about it when Thor bids him goodbye, hand solid and heavy on his shoulder. After the heat fades from his face and ears, Loki stands and stares at the back of the board. _Lo_. The syllable is rich and round, and the way Thor says it sparks something inside of his stomach.

Loki goes home. 

They get good news and bad news within the span of five hours. 

After days and days of no new leads, Hogun, along with the help of Josie’s colleague, finally manages to locate footage of Harvey inside _Tesseract_. The footage provides them with a crucial piece of evidence – Harvey’s time inside the bar turned out to be practically identical with Randall’s. The same seat, the same drink, the same act of taking one sip and leaving the rest untouched. But the cherry on top of the sundae? He had received a napkin as well. 

It’s as if everyone’s engines receive a burst of gas as soon as they learn of that new development. Bruce immediately starts scanning through more CCTV footage in the hopes that he would identify another customer (and potential murder victim) with the same markers, while Thor and his team retreat into a meeting room to discuss possible ways to proceed. 

But just hours later, they get a call from the dispatcher. There’s been a third murder.

Loki and Shuri are the first to arrive at the scene, and are already hunched over the body when Thor’s team enters. This time, the crime scene is a one-bedroom apartment in Queens, with the body arranged neatly on a pull-out sofa bed. The preliminary examination doesn’t take long, not when they already know what they should be looking for. All the wounds, save for the Roman numeral _III_ etched on the man's sternum, match those seen in the two previous victims. Nothing less, nothing more. 

When Loki extracts a silver cross from underneath the victim’s skin, he drops it into an evidence bag, looks across the body at Shuri, and says, “Well, it’s our guy, no doubt about it.”

Shuri gives him a dejected quirk of the lips before lifting her camera. “Yup,” she says, popping the _P_. At this point, there’s really nothing else neither of them can say.

So he leaves Shuri to her photographs, stepping away from the body to let the forensic techs approach. As he backs away, he turns and promptly walks right into a brick wall. A brick wall that turns out to be Thor.

“You okay? Sorry, it’s quite narrow out in the hallway and there’s quite a lot of us squeezed into this place.”

Loki tries to subtly work out the ache in his pinky toe, but the amusement he sees on Fandral’s face as the agent wriggles past them tells him he’s doing a crappy job. Thor, bless him, doesn’t seem to notice. If he does, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he reaches up and nudges Loki’s skewed glasses back in place. 

The second Loki feels Thor’s finger brush against his cheekbone, his ears light up like the Fourth of July. 

“Oh, it’s –” He coughs, cursing the way his pulse speeds up, “– it’s okay. Not your fault. At all. I should be watching where I’m going.”

“No, I should’ve alerted you.”

“No, I’m –”

Out of nowhere, Sif snaps her fingers in their faces and says, “Oh my god, will the both of you can continue this dance of yours outside at a later time? Right now, we have a case to work.”

God, Loki has never been more embarrassed in his life. 

  
Halfway through the autopsy, the doors slide open to reveal Fandral. Or rather, someone who looks a lot like Fandral, plus a full head of curls.

“Did you,” Shuri begins, already starting to crack up, “ _perm your hair?_ ”

Fandral scowls. “Look, all I wanted was a little volume. My hairdresser said _waves_ , not a _nest!_ ” He doesn’t even get through half his sentence before Shuri’s giggling so hard that she has to set the victim’s stomach back into its metal bowl, lest she drops it on the floor. 

Despite wanting to have a good laugh or two, Loki spots the file in Fandral’s hand and decides to let Shuri laugh for the both of them. 

“What’s that?”

“We’ve identified Victim #3.” Fandral sets the file down on a clean tray and Loki peels the glove off his left hand in order to flip it open. “Alexander Holt. He’s much like our previous two victims in the sense that he has a long history of violence. You’ll see in the file that local police have received a couple of disturbance calls from their neighbours, and although they’ve collected enough evidence to charge him for domestic violence, his ex-wife didn’t want to press charges.”

The mere mention of domestic violence has Loki’s eye twitching and he leafs through the pages with more force than necessary. 

He’s reading about Holt’s employment history when a realisation smacks him right in the face. 

“Oh my god. I have a theory.”

“What a coincidence,” Fandral says. “Our Bossman has one, too.”

Loki looks up from the file. “What’s his theory?”

“The UnSub is targeting the victims because of their violent tendencies.”

God, Loki has never felt so attracted to a man before. He shrugs out of his lab coat, peels off his other glove, and makes a beeline for the door. Shuri can finish up the autopsy just fine without him there. 

“Where’s he going?”

Shuri shrugs, setting the stomach on a scale and jotting down its weight. 

“To see Thor, I’m guessing. But as to what they’ll be doing in his office…” She lets her sentence hang and Fandral lets out a cheer. 

Upstairs, Loki doesn’t give Thor much time to adjust to his presence. He knocks once, waits for half a second, then walks right in. Thor’s seated behind his desk, suit jacket slung over the back of his chair and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There are papers scattered all over his desk and a half-empty mug of coffee is resting precariously on the edge. 

“Hi,” Thor says. He doesn’t seem irritated in the least, despite Loki barging in. “You look excited about something.”

“The UnSub.” Loki steps inside and shuts the door behind him. “You think he’s picking his victims because they’re violent, right?” He settles into one of the chairs opposite Thor and leans in. “They’ve all been in contact with law enforcement. Harvey got into pub brawls, Randall assaulted a random person on the street just because they bumped into him, and Holt beat up his ex-wife.”

There’s a sharp glint in Thor’s eyes, one that has Loki’s blood thrumming. 

“Mm, you really are a genius. Yes, you’re right, but there’s a reason I have to be careful with this theory.” He lifts the mug to his lips and takes a large gulp – Loki watches as his throat works, at the veins running down the length of it. He shifts in his seat. “If we are right about how the UnSub picks his victims, then we are suggesting that the UnSub is either in law enforcement or has access to police records that the general public does not.”

“And we can’t afford to open that can of worms until we’re absolutely certain.”

Thor nods in agreement, leaning back in his seat as he continues to speak. But Loki isn’t listening, because the way Thor’s shirt stretches across his chest is… well, obscene, to say the very least. 

Loki drags his bottom lip through his teeth and takes a breath. All this adrenaline, in addition to being in an enclosed space with Thor Odinson, is making his head swim. 

“– all of our manpower to this.”

It’s the silence that snaps Loki back to reality.

“Sorry, uh, you were saying?”

The corner of Thor’s mouth lifts. “I said that until we are able to provide solid evidence to back up our theory, we cannot dedicate all of our manpower to this. I will get my team to work on this angle, but we will still have to consider other possibilities in the meantime.”

“Of course.” Loki gets to his feet and runs his palms down the side of his pants. “I’ll leave you to your work, then. I do have an autopsy to finish up, anyway.”

He’s just about to open the door when a hand extends from behind him and keeps it closed. Loki stares at it, at the strong fingers and large palm that he knows are not his own and can only belong to one other person. His gaze trails down to the fine hairs dusted over a thick forearm and he slams his eyes shut before he does or says anything embarrassing. 

Christ, Thor is standing so close that Loki can actually feel the heat radiating off the man’s frame. As if the proximity wasn’t enough, there’s the scent again – that floral, woodsy scent that Loki wants to bottle up, take home, and pour all over his sheets. 

“Have a few minutes to spare? I’m sure Shuri can handle things for a little while longer.”

Thor’s breath fans over the curve of his neck and Loki shivers, goosebumps erupting all down his forearms. His grip on the door handle tightens. 

It takes all of his composure to keep his voice steady when he replies.

“I have a few minutes, sure. What do you need?”

When a hand presses against the small of his back, the touch electrifying, Loki nearly snaps the handle right off. 

“If I may be blunt,” Thor says, probably close enough to see Loki’s pulse fluttering, “I need you.”

  
The next thing Loki knows, his back is flush against the door and Thor’s mouth is on his. There’s a hand cupping his jaw to hold him in place and Loki’s senses are going absolutely haywire. Thor’s stubble leaves an addictive burn across his skin, his lips are pillow-soft, and his grip is strong, warm, and maybe just the slightest bit possessive. 

And that _fucking_ scent. 

After an embarrassingly long moment of simply letting Thor take and plunder, Loki pushes on Thor’s chest until Thor has no choice but to back away. His lips are red and shiny and Loki wants them back on his own _now_ , but he has something else to do first. 

“Loki, if I’m crossing a line, please tell –”

“Oh, shut up.” 

He makes quick work of Thor’s buttons, letting the panels of his shirt fall away to reveal a body that only gods can dream of. Loki runs a hand down full pecs and sculpted abs, groans, and nudges at Thor until he backs up to the couch that somehow manages to fit in the room. 

Leather squeaks when Thor’s full weight drops down on it, followed immediately by Loki’s. 

He settles easily over thick thighs, head dipping low to seal their lips together. Thor returns the kiss, perfectly okay with letting Loki lead – because by doing so, it gives him the opportunity to wind his arms around a tapered waist, fingertips dipping beneath the hem of Loki’s shirt to brush along a sliver of skin. 

Loki doesn’t know where to touch. His hands roam everywhere, from the rough edge of Thor’s jaw down to the peak of a nipple, then further south to the ridges of his abs. He wants to map all of Thor into his memory, from the steady way his chest rises and falls to the way his tongue licks in deep. 

If it wasn’t for the sudden beeping of a phone, Loki thinks he would’ve spent the rest of his day on Thor’s lap. Alas, they both have work to do, and so they part reluctantly, Thor taking a second to run the flat of his thumb over Loki’s kiss-swollen lip. 

“It’s Sif,” Thor murmurs. Loki’s blood sings at the roughness of his voice. “Apparently Heimdall’s been looking for me.”

“Okay. I should probably go as well.” 

But they don’t move from their spot. Instead, Thor shamelessly slides his hands higher up underneath Loki’s shirt, hitching him closer until their foreheads touch. Loki breathes him in, resting his thumb on the corner of Thor’s mouth and smoothing down the bristles of his beard. 

“Are you okay with this?”

Loki cracks an eye open. 

“Yeah, Thor, I’m okay with this.”

  
There have been no new bodies since the discovery of the third. While that’s great news to the general public, it has the media speculating on dozens of possibilities, each and every one making Loki’s insides crawl. After all, a serial killer doesn’t simply stop killing. 

But with the lull in killings, Loki has no reason to spend extra time in the morgue. 

He’s so busy all the time that Loki doesn’t remember the last time he was able to curl up on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand. Tonight, however, he gets to do just that. 

Feet clad in woolly socks and hair piled atop his head, Loki sinks down into a cloud of pillows and turns the television on. After a few flicks through different channels, he finds a rerun of a crime show – delighted, Loki takes a sip of wine and settles down for a joyful night of pointing out (to no one but himself) just how inaccurate crime shows really are. 

Barely ten minutes into the episode and one the detectives has her love interest shoved up against the brick wall in some dirty alleyway. Usually, Loki would enjoy some wine or scroll through his phone during these scenes, but this time…

This time, Loki watches. He watches because it reminds him of Thor, of the many times and ways their lips have met over the past two weeks. Two rollercoaster weeks, filled with a new lead – a woman, Rebecca Tan, that Bruce found to be a past attendee of the fight club –, a lot of mission planning that Loki is not privy to, and handfuls of stolen moments together in quiet corners of the building. 

On screen, the hot and heavy scene concludes and Loki takes another mouthful of wine. 

His phone buzzes. Loki already knows who it is. 

_hope your night’s going well. mjolnir’s already having doggy dreams._

Attached is a picture of Thor’s five-year-old golden retriever, a stuffed turkey leg plushie resting in her mouth while she dozes off in his doggy bed. Loki has never been much of a dog person, but this picture is cute enough to bring a smile to his face.

_seems like her doggy dreams are pleasant ones. i’m quite enjoying the company of wine, how about you?_

_scotch for me. quiet night though, nothing good on the telly._

_too much space at home for one man?_

_too much space for one man and his dog._

Loki sips at his wine, re-reading Thor’s last message over and over again until he decides on a suitable reply. 

_you should get a smaller place then._

_or find someone to fill up the extra space._

It’s amazing, really, how quickly Loki’s mind jumps to conclusions. 

_someone?_

_someone, someday. living alone has it perks, but life is always better shared with someone else. wouldn’t you want the same?_

Gunfire comes out of the speakers, sporadic and loud, but Loki pays the sound no mind. 

_yeah, someday._

  
Too focused on finding his favourite tea scattered amongst dozens of other tea packets, Loki doesn’t hear footsteps entering the pantry until he hears his name. Startled, he drops a handful of English breakfast tea packets – one slides underneath the refrigerator, destined to be lost forever. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” 

Loki follows Thor’s movements as the latter opens a cabinet on the far right, extracting a nondescript tin box that he hands over to Loki.

“Your earl grey.”

Thor’s noticed the type of tea he favours? There’s a warmth in his belly that freshly brewed tea can only hope to achieve. 

While Loki pours hot water into a thermos, Thor leans against the counter and nurses an extra-large cup of coffee. 

“Slept well?”

“Decently,” Loki says, dropping the tea bag in. He looks over at Thor, at those baby blues, and finds himself stepping closer. “You?”

The bottom of the coffee cup meets the countertop and Thor’s hands, warmed by the hot liquid, slides up to cradle Loki’s jaw. 

“Well enough.”

It’s a gentle kiss, the barest brush of lips, but it has colour flooding Loki’s cheeks all the same. Thor thumbs at the faint smear of coral across a sharp cheekbone. 

“You’re breathtaking when you blush.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, fingers closing around Thor’s tie. “Are you saying I’m not breathtaking when I don’t blush?”

“Extra breathtaking,” Thor corrects, grinning when he gets a fond roll of the eyes in return. He drops another kiss on Loki’s forehead for good measure. 

After smoothing out Thor’s tie, Loki turns back to his tea.

“Actually, I came in here looking for you. Want to ask if you wanted to drop by a meeting the team is about to have? Heimdall’s given you permission.”

“What’s it about?”

“We think we have a plan of action.”

Loki picks up his thermos, tosses the tea bag into the trash, and gestures for Thor to lead the way. 

  
“ _Absolutely_ not.”

Having stayed silent throughout the entire meeting up until this point, Loki’s declaration comes as a surprise to the dozen or so agents in the room. From his spot in the corner, thermos sitting forgotten on the floor, Loki steps forward and plants his palms down onto the table. He can feel the vein pulsing in his temple. 

“Do none of you have any idea how dangerous this is? What this UnSub does? He has no remorse; to him, he is doing society a service by cleansing the streets of violence. He drains the blood of his victims, brands them, and carves them up like a Thanksgiving turkey. And now you want to send your own agent in?”

Everyone stares up at him, unsure of how to proceed in the light of a very agitated medical examiner. 

“Loki –”

“Assistant Director,” Loki interrupts, “with all due respect, you do not know this guy as well as we do. They are the ones working the case and I am the one who has to look at his victims. Two months and three bodies – and you want to gift him a fourth?”

He leaves the room before anyone else has the chance to speak up. 

But he doesn’t make it far until Thor catches up to him. He lets himself be tugged into a quiet corridor, where he’s boxed into a corner by the very man who makes his heart beat double time. 

“If you’re gonna try to make me understand why –”

“I’m not going to. I understand why you said what you said. I’m not here to change your mind.” 

That has Loki shutting right up, most of the fight seeping out of him when Thor exhales. 

“I just wanted to see if you’re willing to grab dinner tomorrow night.”

Loki blinks. That was… unexpected. Thor’s looking at him, all hopeful, and Loki is suddenly reminded of a picture that Thor had sent him of Mjolnir. 

“Like… a date?”

Thor carefully tucks a lock of Loki’s hair behind his ear. A beat, then two, then Thor nods. “Yeah. Like a date.”

  
It’s a quarter to seven and Loki is right on time. 

He steps out of his car and looks up at Thor’s house, noting how quaint and quiet the neighbourhood is. Great area for families, that’s for sure. They had decided to stay in for their first date, fed by Thor’s skills in the kitchen and entertained within these stone walls. 

Loki walks up the stairs and rings the doorbell. As soon as the first ring goes off, he hears an excited bark from the other side of the door. Another bark, louder this time, and Loki takes a step back just in case Mjolnir comes flying through the doorway as soon as the door opens. The bottle of wine he had so carefully picked for tonight is expensive and he’s not about to let it shatter all over the ground. 

Sure enough, Mjolnir is there when the door opens, but she’s thankfully sitting obediently by Thor’s feet. Her tail is wagging at a thousand miles an hour and it’s clear that she wants to pounce on this new visitor, but Thor keeps her at bay. He’s a gorgeous sight to behold – Loki has never seen him in jeans and a Henley before, and damn is it a good look on the man.

“Hey, come on in.” Thor steps to the side and accepts the wine that Loki offers him, planting a quick kiss on Loki’s temple before shutting the door. 

Mjolnir is instantly on Loki, sniffing his feet and bumping his nose against Loki’s hand until she gets pets and scratches. With all the attention, her tail continues swishing back and forth – it doesn’t seem to be slowing down whatsoever.

“She’s very affectionate,” Thor tells him, guiding Loki into the kitchen with a hand on his lower back. “All it takes to earn her eternal love is a treat or two.” He sticks the bottle of wine inside a wine chiller and picks up a wooden spoon. “Dinner will be done in ten minutes or so; feel free to look around. I hope you like fish.”

As Thor finishes preparing dinner, Loki wanders around the space with Mjolnir trotting after him. The first thing he does is select a doggy treat from the shelf, which Mjolnir happily takes from between his fingers. Once she’s done with her treat, Loki wanders into the study, where evidence and photographs from their current case are tacked to a large corkboard hung up on the wall. He makes sure to close the door behind him when he exits the room. Choosing to skip the guest bedroom, Loki heads upstairs, lingering on every step in order to look at the framed photographs. 

“Is this your family?”

“Are you looking at a picture where we’re all covered in mud?”

“Mm, makes your teeth look exceptionally white.”

Thor’s booming laughter rings loud and clear. “Yeah, that’s my family. We took part in a Tough Mudder a few years ago and we all made it through.”

“Wow. Your mother’s a strong woman.”

“In more ways than one, you have no idea.”

Loki takes a few more steps and comes face to face with a wedding picture. In it, Thor looks completely enamoured by the brunette in his arms and her smile is easily the brightest thing in the photograph. His hair is long here, pulled back into a neat ponytail and tied with an ivory ribbon. 

“You still display your wedding photos?”

For a moment, all Loki hears are dishes and silverware being brought out. Then Thor appears in the hallway, apron on and dish towel in hand. He’s got a look on his face that Loki can’t quite decipher. 

“Yeah. We decided to get a divorce because we were no longer in love, not because we stopped caring for each other. Jane is still an important part of my life.”

There’s a pregnant pause, where Thor seems to anticipate some sort of negative reaction from Loki. For his part, Loki continues looking at the photograph, taking in the matching rings and flowers in the woman’s hair. 

“I wish my marriage ended as amicably as yours did,” Loki finally says, absently scratching at a spot behind Mjolnir’s ear. “Now, Sigyn and I barely exchange more than ten sentences a year.” He turns to look down the steps at Thor, lips curving into a smile at the relief on the man’s face. “You had a beautiful wedding. It deserves to have a place on your wall.”

With that, he continues up the stairs. 

He pokes his head into each room – one guest bedroom has been converted into a library of sorts (Loki notes that there are barely any crime novels on the shelves) while another is clearly where his parents would stay when they visited. 

When Loki steps into the master bedroom, his toes are met with the softest rug. Mjolnir traipses in and flops down by the foot of Thor’s bed, warm honey eyes trained on Loki as he walks close and prods at a pillow. Oh, that’s soft. 

The room smells faintly of pine and vanilla, the walls a warm maroon in colour and adorned with even more photographs of Thor’s family and friends (with some level of relief, Loki doesn’t see a single wedding photo here). In the corner of the room is a doggy bed and a pile of doggy toys – Loki watches with great amusement as Mjolnir pads over and picks up a stuffed hammer. 

“I see that you have found my secret lair.”

“It’s very cosy in here,” Loki says, running his fingertips along the length of the duvet. “Seems like a perfect place to just curl up and relax.”

Thor wrestles the toy hammer out of Mjolnir’s mouth and tosses it up on the bed. Tail once again wagging at full force, Mjolnir leaps up onto the bed, picks the toy up, and tosses it back to Thor. 

“Oh, it is. I think Mjolnir’s a little tired of me, honestly. I cuddle her way too much at night.” 

With a click of his tongue, Thor summons Mjolnir off the bed and to his side, the toy hammer safe between the retriever’s teeth. Then Thor takes Loki’s hand in his, squeezes once, and says, “Food’s ready. Shall we?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Wanna see Mjolnir walk with socks on?”

Bellies full from a wonderful dinner of pilaf, mustard crusted tilapia, and fragrant vegetables, they have taken to the couch with filled wine glasses. There’s ice cream churning away in an ice cream mixer – the flavour a secret that Thor refuses to reveal – and Thor has brought out a fruit platter that he places on the coffee table. 

Loki has never been so content, wined and dined by someone like Thor. 

“Socks?”

“It’s a sight,” Thor promises, setting his glass down and before sticking a hand into the wicker basket next to the couch. He brings out four small socks, pastel blue, and Mjolnir sits patiently as Thor puts them on her paws. 

The moment Mjolnir gets to her feet and takes a step, Loki dissolves into hysterical laughter. In fact, he laughs so hard that Thor has to swoop in and rescue the wine glass from his clutches, thus saving both Loki and the couch from stains. 

He laughs until his abdominals hurt and tears start prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“Goodness,” Loki wheezes, clutching at his stomach. “I’ve never seen anything so delightful.”

“Really? I have.”

“Impossible.” Wiping at his eyes, Loki slumps back against the couch and welcomes a very happy Mjolnir onto his lap, socked paws and all. This dog is truly a gift to mankind. 

“Not impossible,” Thor says. “In fact, I’m looking at one right now.”

Loki looks over and Thor’s staring right at him. 

Heat sears his cheeks and Loki can feel it sparking up to the tips of his ears. “Thor, that’s easily the cheesiest thing I have ever heard in my life.”

Thor lifts a shoulder, completely unbothered by the fact that those words actually came out of his own mouth. 

“That may be true, but I stand by my statement.”

Mjolnir drops her hammer and hops off the couch to retrieve it. As soon as his legs are free of weight, Loki takes the chance to move, angling his body to face Thor and pulling the man close with a handful of Thor’s Henley bunched up in his fist.

“You’re ridiculous. Please kiss me.”

And Thor does, with a hand around the back of a slim neck and lips closing around the swell of Loki’s. Ever since he hit puberty, Loki has never been a fan of facial hair – on him or anyone else. But facial hair on _Thor_ is nothing short of a God-given wonder. There’s just something about the way the bristles rasp against his own skin and the stark contrast of soft lips that has Loki wanting more. 

Thor tastes of wine, sweet and sharp and addictive, and Loki opens up to let him in. 

Time passes like this, with the two of them tangled up on the couch, trading kisses both chaste and deep. When they finally part for air, Thor thumbs at Loki’s jaw and offers him an apologetic smile. 

“I think you might be getting beard burn. Should I start –”

“No,” Loki says firmly. “I’ll deal with it. Don’t shave.”

Amused, Thor curls an arm around Loki’s middle and manhandles him closer, stopping only when long legs are on either side of his hips. Ah, there are the flushed ears. Thor leans in to plant a kiss on the tip of Loki’s nose followed by another on his plum-tender lips.

“Dessert? I think the ice cream’s done.”

“Aren’t we having dessert right now?” 

Thor has to admit that Loki makes a very good point. The man on his lap, with his intellect and snark and bright emerald eyes, is definitely enough to satisfy his sweet tooth. 

With a hum, Loki slumps into Thor’s chest and rests his head on a strong shoulder. From out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mjolnir gnawing lazily on a chew toy. Loki is too realistic to daydream (especially when it comes to matters of the heart), but in that moment, he thinks he could really get used to a life with Thor in it. 

“You’re very warm,” he mumbles, “much like a furnace.” 

“Ah, I’ve been told by numerous people that they are more inclined to spend time with me during the winter months.”

Something that sounds and feels like a feline’s purr bubbles up and out of Loki’s throat when Thor’s hands slide up underneath his turtleneck and rest against his bare skin. So warm. Fingers brush over the knobs of his spine, trace the edges of his scapulas, and play along his ribs like piano keys. 

When Thor nuzzles into the curve of his neck, Loki nearly rips his own shirt off. The roughness of Thor’s beard against the sensitive skin right over his pulse point has the hairs on his arms standing and his nipples pebbling – fuck, Loki never knew he would like this so much. 

He pulls back abruptly, hands braced against Thor’s chest and elbows locked. Thor is, understandably, mildly alarmed. 

“Lo?”

Their gazes meet and Loki takes a deep breath. It’s been a while since the last time, but Loki’s more than ready. 

“Will you help me take this off?”

Loki plucks at the hem of his turtleneck for clarification and gets to witness first-hand the dilation of Thor’s pupils, black bleeding into electric blue. 

  
Fifteen minutes later and Loki is enjoying the softness of Thor’s duvet against his bare skin, the owner of said duvet hovering over him in a broad expanse of muscle and flecks of gold. Loki looks up at him, at his own desire reflected onto Thor’s face, and his mind runs wild with want. He wants to drag his nails down Thor’s back, to stretch his lips around the girth of Thor’s cock, to feel the push of Thor deep, deep inside him. 

Loki has always been someone to pursue his dreams. 

“You can touch me, you know?”

Thor’s eyes haven’t stopped darting all over his body ever since his underwear joined the pile of clothes on the rug. Despite Thor having barely laid a finger on him, he’s hard enough for precome to pearl on the head of his cock.

“I don’t know where to start,” Thor admits. “I only have two hands.”

Loki’s heart explodes into a million pieces of confetti. 

“You’re unbelievable. Just – kiss me.”

And Thor does, loving the way Loki’s legs fall apart to accommodate his frame when he dips in to press their mouths together. Thor kisses him deep, mapping out the now-familiar contours of Loki’s lips with his own before moving to the juncture of his neck and latching onto the tendon there. 

The second Thor sucks, Loki keens and drags angry lines down Thor’s back. 

“Fuck,” Loki gasps. The lights on the ceiling look like stars. “I –”

Thor moves a few inches down and sucks again. 

This time, when Loki lets out a tiny, desperate noise, Thor eats it right up. Need and desire collide in Loki’s gut, turning into a burning ball of fire that sends embers sparking up his veins. He arches up into Thor’s bulk, cock jumping when it brushes the jut of Thor’s hipbone. This moan is swallowed up by Thor, too. 

Air rushes out of his lungs when Thor tweaks the tip of a hardened nipple with his thumb. 

“Did you know,” Thor begins, mouthing down Loki’s neck until his breath sweeps over that sensitive nub, “that your blush spreads throughout your entire body? You’re a living example of what art truly is.”

Loki barely has time to process Thor’s words before a tongue, wet and warm, flicks over his nipple. Feather-light and deliberate, it sends a tremor racing through Loki’s body all the way down to his toes. Never in his life has Loki begged, not even when Sigyn had him hard and leaking for half a day before she decided to do something about it. But right now, Loki is completely willing to beg for more.

“Oh –”

But Thor beats him to it, moving to the other side of Loki’s chest and teasing the neglected nipple between his teeth. Loki moans, a hand fisting into the sheets when Thor bites, tongue immediately soothing over the soreness right after. 

“See, you’re pink here and here –” Thor kisses Loki on the cheek, then the neck, “– and now you’re pink here.” Another kiss over Loki’s thundering heart. 

Large hands bracket Loki’s ribs, smoothing down his sides until they come to rest at the dip of his waist. Thor shuffles down the bed, eyes flickering up to Loki’s as he moves. _Predatory_ , Loki thinks dazedly, _and he’s ready to devour._

“You’re pink here, too.” 

Thor touches the flushed head of Loki’s cock with a finger, smiles at the pinched whimper that escapes, then proceeds to take Loki down his throat. The reaction is instant – Loki’s fingers grasp at the short strands of Thor’s hair, back curving like a bow in the hands of a talented archer. His lips, cotton-candy pink, part and he cries out, the sounds blending into a symphony playing just for Thor. 

With a hand splayed across Loki’s taut belly, Thor holds him down and still, eyes closed as he swirls his tongue around the head and finally gets a taste of the man who’s been keeping his mind whirring late at night. 

Through heavy lids and thick lashes, Loki gazes down at Thor between his thighs. At the sight of those lips in a tight ring around his cock, Loki shivers, and when Thor drags the flat of his tongue up the underside, Loki stops breathing. He watches as Thor eases off his cock, dropping wet kisses up the shaft until he reaches the dripping slit. There, Thor glances up at him and holds Loki’s gaze as he bends to kiss the tip, pulling away with precome smeared over his lips. 

Loki’s cock twitches at the sight.

“Look at you,” Thor rasps, kissing the insides of Loki’s thighs. The reverence in Thor’s voice has Loki heart spilling over, and he catches his bottom lip between his teeth to keep certain words trapped inside. 

With a hand cupping the back of Loki’s knee, Thor spreads him open. Another bead of precome falls off the tip of Loki’s cock and onto his stomach. 

“Just as I thought.” Thor mouths at the fullness of Loki’s balls and kisses the sensitive skin behind it. “You’re pink here as well.” 

He can feel Thor’s breath against his hole, but nothing could have prepared him for when Thor licks at his entrance – small, kittenish licks that turn into long and languid drags of his tongue. Loki lets out the most embarrassing sound and pushes down on Thor’s face, hips moving automatically in tight circles when the tip of Thor’s tongue starts tracing his rim. 

“Fuck,” Loki groans, heels digging into the mattress. “Yes, yes _yesyes_ –!” 

This is so _filthy_ , but Loki doesn’t want Thor to stop. Thor hums happily against Loki’s hole, thumbs keeping those supple cheeks spread apart for easier access, and nudges his tongue inside. 

With a broken cry of Thor’s name, Loki comes.

Shudders ripple throughout his frame and Thor must feel the way Loki’s thighs clamp down on either side of his head, but he keeps eating Loki out. He doesn’t stop, not when Loki starts scrabbling at the sheets, not when the sensitivity gets too much and Loki starts squirming, not even when Loki’s cock starts aching with the need to get hard again.

He only stops when a tiny sob of pleasure escapes Loki’s throat.

Thor pulls back and admires his handiwork – the insides of Loki’s thighs are raw from his stubble and that pretty hole is mouthwatering, the pink skin glistening with spit. 

“You okay?” 

Chest heaving, Loki closes his eyes when Thor thumbs at a tear running down his cheek.

“Mm. I want –” He licks his lips and buries into Thor’s hot touch.

“What do you want? Just gotta tell me, Lo.”

“I want you to – I want you to touch me, I want you inside me, I want you to fill me, and I just – I want you.”

He has barely finished his sentence before Thor kisses what’s left of his breath away. 

  
Thor’s a solid presence in front of him and under him, the blunt, wet head of his cock skating over his hole, leaving sticky kisses in its wake. Skin hot, Loki rises up on his knees and traces over Thor’s features with a trembling finger, ears honed in on the sound of Thor opening the bottle of lube. 

“It’s a bit cold,” Thor murmurs. He kisses the curve of Loki’s shoulder. “Okay?”

Like the gentleman everyone knows he is, Thor waits until Loki nods before he slips his hand between Loki’s legs. The sudden chill has Loki sucking in air through his teeth, but he keeps his eyes on Thor and focuses on the fingers spreading slick between his cheeks. Body heat warms the lube up in no time, Loki’s toes curling at the way Thor rubs it over his hole. A fingertip catches on the rim and Loki feels his cock fill instantly – Thor sees it too, if the look in his eyes is any indication.

Every muscle in Loki’s body tenses when Thor nudges a finger in. 

Thor squeezes Loki’s hip and turns his head to kiss a slim wrist. “Relax. Let me in.”

And Loki really wants Thor inside, so he takes a breath and releases it, moaning when Thor’s finger finally sinks in to the knuckle. It slides out and back in at a steady pace, sending a rush of heat to Loki’s cheeks at the obscene sound of lube being pushed into his hole. 

“You feel like silk,” Thor says, voice thick with want. “Can’t wait to feel you around me.”

A second finger joins the first and Loki goes boneless, resting his weight on Thor and hips pushing out to let those fingers go deeper. Thor doesn’t focus any attention on Loki’s prostate, the pads of his fingers only grazing the sensitive gland to keep Loki on edge while he’s being opened up.

Through the space between their bodies, Loki sees Thor’s cock resting against his belly, a hard and insistent line that has Loki’s mouth watering. He sees the corded sinew in Thor’s forearm as he flexes his fingers, and sees those very fingers disappear behind the curve of his balls. 

Loki warbles out a _please!_ when Thor starts fucking him with three fingers, the stretch delicious and not enough all at once. Loki can’t help it – he pushes down on the digits, slick and warm with lube, and rides them in an attempt to get some attention on his neglected prostate. 

But Thor doesn’t give Loki the satisfaction. Not yet.

He waits until Loki begs again. “Shh. I got you, Lo, I promise.” One final plunge of his fingers inside Loki’s sweet heat and he pulls them out, wiping off excess lube on the sheets.

As soon as the condom’s on, Loki braces his weight on Thor’s shoulders and lets the man guide him down onto his cock. Thor slips in with little resistance, forcing a moan out of both of them when the curve of Loki’s ass finally meets the seams of Thor’s thighs. 

“Yeah,” Thor breathes. His grip on Loki’s waist is iron-tight. “There we go. Just like that, so perfect.”

Loki remembers every single person he has let claim him, but this is the first time he remembers feeling the fullness reach up to where his heart is rapping out a staccato against his ribs. He clings onto Thor, rocking down while Thor fucks up to meet him, the head of his cock nudging into the electric bundle of nerves and sending Loki closer and closer to breaking out into tears of pleasure. 

They’re done with taking things slow, too desperate for more that any semblance of focused rhythm tapers out into instinctive movements. Thor keeps Loki close with an arm wound around his waist, free hand skating up his side to tug on his cock before moving further up to brush over stiff nipples. 

“Loki,” Thor groans, “ _Loki_.”

Loki barely registers his name on Thor’s tongue. He’s filled up to the brim, oversensitive in all the right places, cock slick with his own precome – it’s too much, too good, and Loki wonders if the noises he’s making sound as delirious as he feels. 

His hips buck when Thor’s hand closes around his cock, thumb swiping over the slit and down the ridge of the head. Thor simply keeps his fist there and Loki takes over, fucking himself back on Thor’s cock and forward into his grip. His lungs are aching, thighs trembling, and he can feel a bead of sweat roll down his back. 

He’s close, so close. Thor kisses him on the cheek, heedless of sweat-damp hair plastered to Loki’s skin, and whispers little praises right into his ear. Loki gasps, throat tight, and feels his balls tighten. 

Then he’s coming, cock pulsing in Thor’s hand and electricity rushing through his veins. The force of his orgasm is so intense that he stops breathing for a moment, body locked in a rigid line of ecstasy, and the last thing he feels is Thor’s lips against his neck before everything goes black. 

  
It’s the feeling of something wet, warm, and cottony running down the insides of his thighs that stirs Loki awake. He must have made a noise, because Thor is instantly there, brushing hair out of his face and thumbing at his lip. 

“Hey. You back with me?”

The lights are dimmed and he’s on his back, head pillowed on something wonderfully soft. His skin still tingles. 

“Uh,” Loki tries. His voice sticks, and Loki coughs twice before he attempts to speak again. “What happened?”

“I think you had a mindblowing orgasm,” Thor informs him kindly. Loki peels his eyelids open and squints down at where Thor has picked up a washcloth, returning to wiping at the sensitive area of his crotch. “Literally. I’m feeling quite proud, if I may say so myself.”

Loki tries not to think about the way his spent cock twitches at the sight of Thor down there. 

“I think I did,” Loki agrees. “And I think you should be _very_ proud of yourself.”

Pleased, Thor grins up at him and Loki can’t help the amused snort that escapes. After a minute, Thor finishes cleaning him up and disappears into the bathroom with the washcloth, but not before he drops a kiss on the inside of Loki’s knee. That little act of affection has Loki blushing all over again, turning over onto his side to bury his face into the pillow. 

He must have saved a whole species from extinction in his past life, because how else could someone like Thor be part of his current life?

“Have some water,” Thor says, re-entering the room. “There’s a glass to your right. I’m gonna go get some ice cream, I think we both deserve it.”

Loki watches Thor go, the man wearing nothing except boxer shorts and looking like a god nonetheless. He burrows into the sheets, takes a great big whiff of Thor’s scent, and sighs in contentment. 

  
They’re woken up by Thor’s ringing phone, followed shortly by Loki’s. 

“Ugh,” Loki grumbles, face tucked into the crook of Thor’s neck. “ _Ugh_.”

“Mm. ‘s work.”

“Why.”

Loki feels Thor’s sleepy laughter rumble through his chest and the sensation instantly lifts the cloud of irritation that Loki usually gets when he’s woken up against his will. 

The bed dips as Thor untangles their limbs and reaches over to where his phone is lying on the bedside table. Loki does the same towards the other side of the bed. 

“SSA Odinson.”

“Loki. What.”

“Where's the crime scene?”

“Okay. Text me the address.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

They hang up. 

“Another body.”

Loki sighs and rubs at his temples. “Yeah. Another victim.”

Seconds tick by but they remain in bed. Loki can already sense the cogs in Thor’s mind turning and an instinctive feeling of dread settles into his gut, one that he tries to ignore. 

“We should probably get ready to go.”

He turns to roll out of bed, but Thor pulls him back and cups his cheeks, hands smoothing his unruly nest of hair back before returning to his jaw. 

Their eyes meet, gazes laden with unspoken words, but Thor doesn’t say anything and neither does Loki. After a few moments, Thor leans in and bumps the tips of their noses together. Loki swallows and closes his eyes. Their lips are millimetres apart.

“Okay. Let’s get ready for work.”

  
Staying the night at Thor’s house was unplanned, so Loki ends up rummaging through Thor’s closet and finding an old blood red sweater that fits him well enough across the shoulders. It’s cosy and warm, and Loki loves the fact that it smells like Thor’s laundry detergent. 

“That’s my favourite colour.” Thor tugs gently on the hem, eyes dragging down Loki's frame. His gaze lingers on the smudged edge of a bruise on Loki’s throat, left by his own mouth and only visible if the sweater slips. “You should wear it more often.” Loki makes a mental note to do just that. 

Thor makes them coffee and scrambled eggs, a quick breakfast that they eat at the kitchen island while trying not to sneak surreptitious glances at each other. This is uncharted territory for both of them – first and foremost, they’re colleagues. After all, there are some very good reasons that dating a colleague is discouraged in so many companies and prohibited in others. 

There’s also the fact that they’re both divorced. Going through the entire process has soured Loki’s views on marriage, and while he isn’t against love whatsoever, he knows that not wanting to get married can be a dealbreaker for some. He doesn’t know what Thor’s opinions are on the matter, and the uncertainty weighs heavily on his shoulders. 

But this is not the time to think about these things, not when there’s a serial killer on the loose.

Just as they’re clearing their dishes and preparing to leave, Mjolnir trots over and settles down on Loki’s feet, looking up at him with large, shiny eyes. 

“Good morning, sweetie.” Loki reaches down to give her chin a few scratches. “Can’t stay to play, I’m afraid.”

“She already loves you,” Thor notes. There’s a soft smile on his face that tugs on Loki’s heartstrings, and he has to look away before he does something silly like tell Thor how much he adores it. 

Loki accepts the doggy treat that Thor offers and holds it out for Mjolnir to take. She does, moving off Loki’s feet to eat it by her water bowl. 

“We should go. You know, crime scene and all.”

He gets a hum of agreement from Thor, but when he starts walking towards the front door, Thor stops him with a hand around his wrist. 

“You good?” _We good?_

Loki studies the other man, takes in the faint furrow between his brows and the way Thor’s eyes skitter all over his face. 

He smiles and lifts the back of Thor’s hand to his lips. “Yeah, Thor. I’m okay.” 

  
Loki isn’t someone with fears. He doesn’t have phobias, does alright with heights, and death is something he has long since come to terms with. In his field, he kinda has to. 

But when Sif drops by to inform them that the undercover operation will commence, Loki is struck with immense fear. He nearly loses his grip on the bone saw – it’s only thanks to quick reflexes that he doesn’t fuck up the autopsy, or worse, injure himself or Shuri. 

“He – you – he can’t –” Loki’s mouth is suddenly filled with cotton. In the back of his mind, he knew this was coming. But accepting it is a whole other story. “Sif, you have to tell them that this is dangerous! You can’t send Thor in, much less alone!”

The look of hopelessness Sif gives him sends Loki’s heart plummeting to his feet. “I’m so sorry, Loki, but the decision has already been made. Thor himself agreed to it during the meeting, remember?”

Shuri takes one glance at Loki’s face and steps in. “When is he going undercover?” 

“Um, in a few hours, I think? They’ve already set up his undercover identity, he just needs to learn the part and look it.”

A loud clang echoes throughout the room when Loki sets the bone saw down; Sif jumps and Shuri bites back a curse, but neither attempts to stop Loki when he rips off his gloves and strides out of the morgue. 

Only three floors separate them, but the elevator ride feels like a lifetime. 

The moment the elevator doors open, Loki is out, strands of hair slipping out of its bun with how quickly he moves through the hallways. As he nears the team’s bullpen, he catches a whiff of ammonia. 

There, perched on his desk with a phone receiver pressed to his ear and a towel slung around his shoulders, is Thor. He’s dressed in civilian clothes and his hair is slicked back with hair dye. There’s a disposable razor set next to his hip. 

It’s crowded, the space filled with the needed personnel to transform Thor into someone else, someone he isn’t. Heimdall is the first one to notice Loki’s presence, but he sees the expression on Loki’s face and makes the smart decision to stay quiet. Loki can feel multiple eyes on him, but he doesn’t care. 

Thor, too caught up in his phone call, doesn’t see Loki until he’s mere metres away. 

“...wouldn’t be able to –” Thor pauses, eyes fixed on Loki’s face. “Mum, I’ll call you back in a bit, alright?”

He hangs up and hops off the edge of his desk. There’s a beat of silence where no one else so much as _breathes_ , then Thor clears his throat and says, “I have to wash out the dye and stuff; want to join me?”

Without a word, Loki turns and heads towards the bathrooms. Thor follows. 

The bathroom is blessedly empty and Loki locks the main door once Thor steps inside. 

“I know you’re upset,” Thor begins, setting the razor and a small bottle of shampoo down on the sink. Hunched over with his hands braced against the countertop, he looks up at Loki through the mirror. “But I have to do this. It’s my job.”

“Putting yourself in unnecessary danger is not your job –”

“It’s my job to keep the public safe.” 

Loki looks away. 

“ _It’s my job_ , Loki. No matter what it takes.”

The sound of water rushing through the faucet reaches Loki’s ears. As Thor scrubs the dye out of his hair, Loki stands there with his back against the door, eyes shut and chin tilted towards the ceiling. 

Someone tries to enter and Loki calls out a sharp, “Go downstairs.” 

The faucet shuts off. Loki opens his eyes. 

Thor is now blonde and Loki instantly hates it. 

“What do you think?”

Loki simply crooks an eyebrow in response. 

“Hey. This is just until we get the guy,” Thor says, voice gentle. Then he reaches for the razor and Loki loses any semblance of composure he might’ve had. 

“You’re a fool for doing this.”

Thor pauses, fingers poised to remove the cap from the small tube of shaving cream. 

“Lo, how long have you been working here?” 

“...Eight.” 

“And how many undercover operations, that you know of, have been carried out in that time?”

Loki’s jaw tightens. 

“Dozens.”

“And have most of them ended well?”

Loki refuses to answer that question. 

Water still dripping off the strands of his newly-dyed hair, Thor turns and closes the distance between them with a few steps. He reaches up and pulls Loki’s bun loose, carding all ten fingers through the dark strands until some of the tension in Loki’s shoulders melts away. 

“The answer to that question is ‘yes’, isn’t it?” Thor’s thumb rests over the line of Loki’s pulse, surely picking up on the way it speeds up at the touch.

It’s infuriating, the way Thor reads him so easily. 

“The odds are on my side. I’ll be okay.”

“That’s not why I’m –” The urge to just slump into Thor’s warmth is so strong, but Loki stubbornly stamps it down. “It’s not a smart decision, Thor. There are other ways you can go about catching this guy.”

“This is the best way, and I know you know that.”

Thor’s hands slide down and dip past the neckline of Loki’s – no, Thor’s – sweater. Fingers brush against one of the many love bites and Loki can’t help the way his lips part at the touch. He looks up at Thor, into eyes as blue and piercing as mountain waters reflecting the sky. Waters worth drowning in. 

“You’re worried,” Thor murmurs, lashes threads of amber in the light. 

It’s taken months, but Thor has managed to painstakingly peel all of Loki’s layers back, leaving him bare and open in the centre. 

“I’m worried,” Loki admits in a whisper, voice breaking on the last syllable. “You’re not a god, Thor. You can’t guarantee your own safety.”

Thor presses his lips to Loki’s forehead and Loki closes his eyes at the rush of warmth that spreads from the point of contact down to his toes. He clutches onto Thor’s wrist like a lifeline. 

“You’re right. I can’t. But I haven’t gotten this far in my career without being good at what I do. Trust me, Lo.”

The door handle is poking him in the small of his back, but Loki puts up with it because Thor is nosing along his jawline, setting his skin wonderfully aflame with each pass of his beard.

“Don’t shave,” Loki blurts. 

Thor pulls back and blinks at him. “Sorry?”

“Keep this.” Loki runs a palm along the edge of Thor’s jaw. “You uh, you look handsome with it. And it feels nice.”

The fondness that lights up Thor’s eyes has Loki blushing instantly. “Ah, but I have to look different. Gotta make sure my cover is solid, you know, for my safety and all.”

“Oh. Right. Well, maybe you could just trim it down…” 

Shit, Loki doesn't even want to think about how red he is right now – he has never been so embarrassed. Thor seems to be plenty delighted with how things are developing, however. 

“Hmm, trim it down?” Thor swoops in to nip at Loki's bottom lip. “That could work, yeah.” 

  
Twenty minutes later and Thor’s beard is trimmed down, neat and clean. It’s enough to change Thor’s appearance but not enough to upset Loki, which is a clear win-win situation in their books. 

Bruce does a double-take when they head back into the bullpen.

“Wait, weren’t you supposed to shave?”

“I trimmed instead,” Thor quips. He doesn’t elaborate on his decision, but Loki feels Heimdall’s gaze turn to land on him.

“O-okay. Let me, uh, edit your photo then.”

A jingle of keys announces Hogun’s arrival. The man enters and makes a beeline for Thor, holding out two bunches of keys. “This is your new home and this is your new car. Neither are as nice as the ones you have now, but they’ll do. Security cameras are already installed in the house, and we’re finishing up with the GPS tracker on your car.”

Thor looks down at the keys in his hand. “Speaking of a new home,” he says, looking over at where Loki’s trying his best to blend in with the wall, “will you take care of Mjolnir while I’m undercover? Just food and water, and perhaps a walk in the evenings?”

That request comes rather unexpectedly. Loki can only nod, mind blank, and stares as Thor pulls out his actual house keys and passes them over. “I also have a few plants that need watering, but once every few days would be enough. Thanks, Lo.”

_Lo_ , Hogun mouths incredulously, and across the room, Fandral waggles his eyebrows at his colleague in response. Heimdall’s gaze continues flicking between the agent and the medical examiner, expression unreadable. 

“Yeah, I’ll take care of her,” Loki promises. He doesn’t miss the way Thor’s eyes flicker down to his mouth. If he hangs around any longer, Loki thinks he might give in to temptation. So he decides to go. “I should get back to work. Stephen’s been bugging me for samples and all.”

He turns to leave, Thor’s keys pressing into the palm of his hand, but stops after a few steps. This is probably the last time he’ll get to see Thor until the operation ends, successfully or otherwise. Loki doesn’t want to think about what would happen if it _doesn't_ end successfully. 

When he looks back over his shoulder at Thor, he sees that the other man hasn’t looked away. A small smile ghosts across Thor’s lips when Loki strides towards him, and grows when Loki fits a hand to his cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. 

“You stay safe,” Loki says quietly. “Promise me.”

Thor has never agreed to anything so easily. “I promise.” 

Then Loki sets the pad of his thumb over the swell of Thor’s lip and adds just the slightest pressure to his touch. Thor purses his lips, ever so slightly – this is as close to a kiss as they’re gonna get right now, so Loki settles for it. 

“Okay. I’ll see you soon. I’ll take care of Mjolnir, don’t worry.”

“I won’t,” Thor says, and gives Loki’s hip a squeeze. “She loves you already, remember?”

  
One week after Thor has put his own life on hold, Loki finds himself escaping to Stephen’s lab for some distraction. For his safety, all details of Thor’s new identity are kept confidential from everyone but Heimdall, Bruce, and his immediate team – despite many apologies, no one has given in to Loki’s demands for updates.

He’s spent every night at Thor’s house since, filling Mjolnir’s water and food bowls and taking her out for long walks in the nearby park. Her company is so welcomed that Loki finds himself falling asleep in Thor’s bed on several nights, Mjolnir’s bulk curled up alongside him and giving him some of the warmth he yearns for. 

If he finds a few more of Thor’s sweaters that fit him and wears them to work, no one is the wiser. In fact, the one he has on today is Thor’s as well.

“You came at the right time,” Stephen says, glancing over the top of his monitor when the glass doors slide open and Loki steps into the lab. “I put a rush on the tox screen results for the fourth victim and I just got it back. There’s something you would probably like to know.”

Loki walks over to Stephen’s desk, nodding a greeting to one of the lab techs as he passes. When he gets there, he pauses. Stephen’s got an odd look on his face. 

“...What?”

“Hmm, probably nothing,” he replies, then squints at Loki’s chest. “Anyway.” He turns back to his computer screen and points at the tox report. “What do you see?’

After a brief scan of the graph that’s pulled up, Loki turns and looks at his friend. “That’s not pentobarbital.” 

“Ever the smart one,” Stephen declares. He looks like he needs 30 hours of sleep. “Yes, the fourth victim had secobarbital in his bloodstream instead of pentobarbital. You know what this means, right?”

Nudging his glasses further up his nose, Loki straightens and looks down at his friend. “Yes. Both Schedule II drugs. If we can get a list of people who purchased both substances, we can cross-reference them and see if there’s any overlap. Send the info to Bruce? I’ll see if I can get in touch with some contacts in the DEA to speed up the search.”

This is good news! It’s a potential lead and Loki wants more than anything to feel useful right now. Phone already in hand, Loki intends to head out into the hallway to make a few calls, but his plan is thwarted when Stephen pokes him in the side. 

“Ow, what the –”

“Don’t be a baby,” Stephen snarks. Then Loki sees those bloodshot eyes sober up. “Does he make you happy?”

Loki frowns, confused. 

“Who?”

With a grand roll of his eyes, Stephen gestures to Loki’s chest. “Don’t be daft, you know I’m observant. Thor. That’s his sweater, isn’t it? You don’t own any of the sweaters you’ve been wearing recently and they don’t look new.”

The idea of simply lying crosses Loki’s mind, but he figures it’s pointless. 

“It’s his,” he says carefully. “But we’re not… together.”

Stephen shrugs. “Not yet. And that’s not an answer to my original question.”

A part of Loki wants to laugh; Stephen _really_ hates it when people beat around the bush.

“Yes,” he says eventually. “He does.”

A sharp nod, like Stephen is pleased to hear something that confirms his suspicions. “Good. He’s a great guy, and so are you. Despite the vampire-ness.”

Loki throws a wadded up ball of paper at Stephen’s face. 

  
“Don’t leave too late, alright?” 

Thanks to a drunk driver, Loki has three bodies on tables in his morgue. Thanks to his own workaholic tendencies, Loki will likely try to finish all three autopsies within 24 hours. Loki is no stranger to spending the night within these four walls, leaving only to grab food and water or to use the bathroom. 

But for the time being, he has Mjolnir to care for.

“I won’t,” Loki promises, looking up from one of the bodies in time to see Shuri shrug into her coat. “I’ll head home soon.”

She leaves with a wave and Loki turns back to his work, all the while keeping an eye on the clock. It’s a little past eight when Loki decides to stop for the night. 

He’s in the middle of putting everything away when the telephone rings. It’s an internal line, which means that the morgue doesn’t usually get calls unless it’s related to a case. Interest piqued, Loki peels off his gloves and strides over to the phone. ‘

“Loki speaking.”

“Hey, it’s Bruce. Glad I caught you in time. The DEA finally sent in the information you requested. I’m running a program to find the overlapping names now.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The rest of the clean up is finished in minutes and Loki dashes out of the morgue with his coat flapping in his hand. He finds Bruce standing in front of his many computer screens, a can of Monster in his hands and his shirt all rumpled. 

“Anything?” 

Bruce takes a glug of his energy drink and does some weird movement with his shoulders that leaves Loki confused. 

“Here,” he says. “Take a look. It’s not finished, but there are already over a dozen names that appear on both lists.”

Loki peers at the screen and sees a bunch of highlighted names. 

“Hmm, alright. Do you mind emailing me the names once the program is done? I would stay, but I have to take Mjolnir out for her walk.”

When Bruce gives him a thumbs up – Loki eyes the way the digit trembles – and assures him that the names will be sent as soon as possible, Loki takes his leave. In the car, Loki speed dials Fandral’s number and pulls out of the lot, listening as the dial tone fills the space. 

“‘Ello.”

“Hey. Free in thirty minutes?”

“Are you asking me out on a date? I’m gonna tell Thor.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “No, you idiot. I got a list of names and I need your help running some background checks. Technically, I just need your laptop, but I guess you can come with it.”

“Ouch,” Fandral bemoans. “Way to break a guy’s heart. But yeah, I’m free. Where do you want me to go?”

“Thor’s house. See you in a bit.”

He hangs up and presses down on the accelerator. 

  
After three hours, they’ve managed to pull up information on every single name on the list that Bruce sent over. There are twenty-seven names in total, and after scanning through three, Fandral had promptly fallen asleep. 

With Mjolnir snoozing by his feet and Fandral passed out on the couch, Loki takes over Fandral’s laptop. A self-proclaimed night owl, Loki nurses a mug of decaffeinated tea and settles down for a night of reading, his frame swimming in one of Thor’s worn cotton tees. Unsurprisingly, Fandral had commented on how Loki seemed so comfortable in Thor’s ‘domain’, as he put it. Loki simply shrugged and offered the guy a vague smile. 

It _is_ comfortable here, after all. Being in Thor’s house makes it feel as though he isn’t gone and potentially in danger; it soothes Loki’s worries somewhat. 

He goes through each and every single name until he narrows down a list of potential suspects based on everything they know so far. It’s not a concrete list by any means, but at least it’s something. Loki attaches all the information to an email that he sends out to Heimdall and Thor’s team before he finally retires for the night. 

Head pillowed on Thor’s pillow, Loki falls asleep less than an hour before the sun rises. 

  
The second autopsy is wrapping up when Sif drops by and pokes her head inside the morgue. 

“Just wanted to let you know that we’ve received your email. The information seems solid we’ll look further into it to see if we can find any links between these people and the fight club. We’ve also passed the intel on to Thor – he thanks you.” 

Loki looks up from the neat row of stitches done by Shuri’s hand. This is the first time in almost two weeks that the team has given him an update on Thor’s situation. 

“He’s – he’s okay?”

Sif smiles, hair spilling over her shoulder like molten caramel when she tilts her head in response.

“Yes. He’s doing alright.”

The pressure wrapped around his heart eases up and Loki finds it a little easier to breathe. 

“That’s the most you can tell me, right?”

“Sorry, Loki. That’s all I’m allowed to say.”

That’s enough for Loki, at least for now. He gives Sif his thanks.

“Yay! Good news!”

Ah, Shuri. What a bright and sweet girl. Loki’s glad that she’s the one he works with.

“Yeah, it’s good.” He points down to her stitches. “These are good, too. Neater than mine, I’d say.”

She grins proudly, teeth flashing white under the fluorescent lights. 

  
Tucked into bed – his own bed –, Loki is riding the edge of consciousness and dreams when his phone rings. He sighs into his pillows, starkly aware of the dryness behind his eyelids when he cracks them open and reaches for his phone. 

“Hmm?”

“Loki, it’s Heimdall. We’ve got a lead, and I think you’ll want to be here for this.”


	4. Chapter 4

Going to work in sweatpants is something Loki has never done, but there’s a first time for everything. The moon is still high in the sky, spilling pure white over blackness when he pulls into a parking lot, unfolding his still sleep-heavy frame out of the car and shutting the door behind him. 

The office, while quiet, isn’t void of people. He sees more than a few familiar faces as he walks inside the main lobby, stepping into the elevator where the light hits his eyes a little too sharply. When he gets out on the right floor and finds Thor’s team, he sees a table filled with takeout containers and too many empty styrofoam coffee cups. None of them have left the office, it seems.

Heimdall gets straight down to business the moment he sees Loki.

“This woman,” he says briskly, gesturing to one of the TV screens inside the room. 

“Lena Harmon. Thirty-three, Ivy League drop-out, two older brothers who were never there. Father abused her mother for years before turning his attention to her. She works as a nurse in one of the city's hospitals.”

An impressed crook of a thick brow. Loki returns the action. 

“Good memory. Yes, Lena Harmon. Rebecca – remember her? – just ID’ed Lena as someone she’s seen at the fight club. She moonlights as one of the club’s nurses.”

That tidbit of information is enough to wake Loki up completely. 

“Just her? She recognises no one else?”

“Just her,” Heimdall confirms. 

Folding himself into one of the office chairs scattered about, Loki leans forward with an elbow resting on his knee and says, “This… makes sense. If she is our UnSub, she has the perfect hunting ground as well as the abilities to carry out the killings. Female serial killers tend to use poison or substances to kill, after all… But the question is; does she operate with a target in mind or are her victims simply victims of chance? If her targets are _not_ victims of chance, if she actually knows about her victims’ backgrounds and picks based on that knowledge, where does she get her intel from?”

Hogun rubs at his tired eyes and jerks his thumb in Loki’s direction. “Yeah, what he said.”

“We’re already looking into any connections she might have to local law enforcement,” Sif mumbles, nose scrunching as she suppresses a yawn. “Probably the most likely scenario, her knowing someone who’s willing to run background checks for her.”

“Has Thor been alerted to her?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Heimdall simply nods. But something about that nod itches at Loki in a weird, uncomfortable way, and he decides to press for more.

“You were the one who called me here. Just tell me what I want to know.”

Loki doesn’t miss how everyone else in the room suddenly looks away. His blood runs cold.

“ _Heimdall_.”

The Assistant Director exhales heavily and runs a large hand down his face. 

“We have informed Thor of our recent discoveries, but we think he’s in a fight now and hasn’t seen our message.”

“He’s in a fight now,” Loki repeats, flat. “You’ve been putting him in fights?”

Logically, Loki knows that having Thor fight makes sense. What else would explain the need for him to go undercover? But the emotional side of Loki’s brain is having a hard time coming to terms with that fact. The hairs on the back of his neck rises. 

“Loki –”

He holds up a hand and Sif shuts up. 

“What happens when he goes in for fights? What’s the protocol?”

“After the fights, he checks in with us.”

“And when do the fights usually end?”

Everyone looks down at their watches. 

“Fifteen minutes?”

Loki nods, curt. “Alright. Then we wait.”

  
Fifteen minutes pass, then twenty, then thirty. Loki feels the tendrils of panic creeping up on him, slithering into dark places and getting ready to seize. 

“Something’s wrong,” he whispers, knuckles bone-white from how hard he’s clutching at the armrests of his chair. His eyes are so dry, having been staring at the phone that connects them to Thor for minutes upon minutes. It stays quiet, dormant, and fuels Loki’s panic.

“We can’t know for sure,” Fandral tries. “He might just be caught up –”

Loki’s up and out of his chair in a flash, jaw tight and hair in disarray when he whirls around and glares at the agent. Fandral flinches. “You _know_ Thor. He would never let any one of you worry. If he hasn’t made contact by now, _something_ is wrong.”

Suddenly, Bruce calls for their attention.

“I think I found Harmon’s contact.”

Loki stays where he is as the others rush to Bruce’s side. He doesn’t care who Harmon’s contact is. Right now, he doesn’t even care if they catch her. All he wants is Thor back, standing in front of him, safe and alive. 

“Hogun, call Brunnhilde. She’s on stand-by with Krista. Go with them and bring Lee in. Sif, call SWAT. You and Fandral are coming with me. We’re going to get Thor. Bruce, stay here and help coordinate. Loki –”

“If you think I’m going to stay here in this office, all obedient, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

If Heimdall wants to fire Loki for disobeying his orders or talking back to a superior, he can go right ahead and do so. Loki’s going with them, regardless. His mind is made up.

To Loki’s surprise, Heimdall nods. “Of course. We’ll rendezvous in the garage in ten minutes.”

There are limits, Loki knows. There’s only so much he can try to push past set boundaries. So when Loki is ordered to stay in the car, surrounded by SWAT agents, he doesn’t complain. 

Everyone is getting ready to breach, strapping themselves into safety gear and loading up their weapons. Loki watches them move about, shrouded in darkness, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs to keep his mind off bad thoughts. 

Then, the agents go off towards the building, leaving behind the paramedics and a handful of street cops. Loki feels as though he’s suspended in mid-air, his eyes trained on the many silhouettes slowly shrinking in size as they near the building, before they finally disappear behind heavy doors.

When the inevitable firefight begins, Loki feels his stomach lurch. He forces the bile back down his throat, feels it burn, and prays to all the gods above that his friends will make it out alive. 

A single minute feels like an hour. Loki waits for a long, long time. 

  
It’s only when light, courtesy of the police cars’ headlights, floods the area does Loki realise that it’s over. Palms clammy and heart rattling, Loki stumbles out of the car and towards the people streaming out of the warehouse. 

He sees SWAT agents escorting multiple cuffed individuals out, sees the paramedics rushing in, sees the familiar strides of Sif, of Fandral, of Heimdall. But he doesn’t see Thor. 

Ah, there’s that panic again, white-hot and bitter on the flat on his tongue and surging through his veins. 

He takes a step forward. “Thor?”

No one stops for him. 

He takes another step forward. “Thor!”

No one answers him. 

Loki takes off at a run. 

He’s a few feet away from the doors when a large shadow looms. 

Thor appears, a hand on the shoulder of a woman and the other behind her back. 

A sudden urge to cry hits Loki square in the gut and he’s mildly horrified when he feels telltale pinpricks in the corners of his eyes. But when Thor catches sight of him and smiles so, so beautifully, Loki willingly lets a couple of teardrops fall. 

The woman – Harmon, Loki registers as an afterthought – is taken away by a cop. Hands now free to hold someone else, Thor makes a beeline for Loki, only to skid to a stop at the look on Loki’s face. 

“Loki…?”

“Look at you,” Loki says, hoarse. Out of the shadows, the full extent of what Thor had endured in that fight club finally comes to light. His once-golden skin is now a canvas of molten black and blue, streaked with crimson. Hair matted, beard haphazardly trimmed, nails grimy. Loki steps closer, curls a hand around the solid column of Thor’s neck, and exhales when he feels the steady beat of Thor’s heart against the heel of his palm. 

Blessedly, Thor still has that spark in those bright blue eyes. 

“I’m okay,” Thor says, eyes crinkling, but he lets Loki run trembling fingers all over him anyway. Despite the biting wind, Thor is still a walking radiator. Loki has missed his warmth so much. 

Loki swallows, tongue dry, and snatches a blanket out of the arms of a cop passing by. He drapes it across Thor’s shoulders and reaches down for Thor’s hand. 

“Let’s go home.”

  
Mjolnir’s curled up on the bathmat, paws tucked beneath her chin and tail sweeping lazily back and forth. She’d been so happy to see Thor home that it had taken over ten minutes to calm her down enough for Loki to usher Thor into the shower. Now, she doesn’t seem to want to take her eyes off Thor. Loki understands. 

Water sprays down on them and Loki takes his time scrubbing dried blood and sweat off Thor’s body. He works gently, not wanting to aggravate any fresh wounds or re-open healing ones. 

Meanwhile, Thor entertains himself with touching Loki. He thumbs at the curve of Loki’s lip, chases a stream of water down the slope of his neck, sweeps his curtain of dark hair off one shoulder and over the other. He pulls Loki close, hands around a slim waist, and simply beams when Loki complains that this position makes it harder for him to scrub Thor’s back. 

“You could’ve been seriously hurt,” Loki mumbles when he’s finally happy with his work. Thor’s squeaky clean from head to toe now, grime and blood washed down the drain, and Loki can see all the cuts and splotches of colour standing out on his skin. It breaks his heart, but he distracts himself by winding his arms around Thor’s neck and focusing on the sensation of lips brushing against his jaw. 

“I know. But I had a good luck charm.”

He leans away just enough to see Thor glance pointedly at his raised wrist. 

Loki blinks. “A hair tie?”

“ _Your_ hair tie. I took it from you in the bathroom right before I left, remember? For the first few nights, it still smelled like you.”

A beat, then a small noise escapes Loki’s throat and he buries his face in Thor’s neck, letting the shower wash away any trace of his sudden tears. Thor holds him, a hand on the back of his head, and kisses his temple. 

“I love that you care this much,” he murmurs. Another kiss, now on his cheek. “Whenever I check in with the team, they tell me you’ve asked about me.”

“I just wanted to know that you were okay.”

“I made you a promise, remember?”

Loki is the one who presses their lips together, but Thor is the one who kisses the breath out of him, tongue slipping into Loki’s mouth and laying claim to Loki’s heart yet again. 

“Every time I stepped into the ring, I thought of you, of the promise I made you.”

“Stop,” Loki breathes, eyes shut and lips kissed swollen. “Stop. You can’t just say things like that and –”

“Why not? I mean every single word.”

“Thor –”

“ _Loki_.” Large hands cup his jaw and Loki can’t look at anything else but into Thor’s eyes. “I really, really like you. I want you to know that.”

_What a fool,_ Loki thinks. _Of course he knows that, how can he not?_

He shuts off the water and drops a lingering kiss on Thor’s lips. 

“I know, love. I know.”

  
Yes, _this_ is how it’s supposed to be. Thor’s bed, Thor’s weight, Thor’s scent. 

Disinfecting and bandaging Thor's wounds took three times longer than necessary, because Thor wouldn't stop kissing Loki and Loki had the hardest time ignoring the art that is a naked Thor. But his perseverance paid off, and now Loki can enjoy Thor's presence between his legs without worrying about his wounds. 

Head bracketed between Thor's arms, Loki basks in the affection showered upon him by the other man. He gets kisses everywhere, and he feels his cheeks warm up with pleasure when Thor kisses him thrice on the lips, just because he can. 

When he moves to take off his glasses, Thor stops him. 

“Keep them on? I think you look gorgeous with them.”

So Loki does, fingers laced with Thor's as the latter inches down his body, mouth soft on his skin. He pauses to blow a raspberry right over Loki's belly button, an act that has Loki squirming with suppressed laughter and Thor smiling up at him. _Disgustingly cute_ , Loki thinks, and kisses the tips of Thor's fingers. 

Thor kisses him all the way down to his toes. 

“My turn,” Loki says, heart threatening to burst when he sees Thor nuzzling against his calf. He sits up, yanks Thor close, and pushes him down onto his back. Outside the room, Mjolnir scrabbles at the door. 

Loki leans in and kisses the corner of a day-old black eye. 

“I really like you too, you know.” 

A kiss to a small cut on Thor’s cheek, then Loki moves down to his neck. There, he leaves a bruise of his own, and Thor hums his appreciation. The worst of the damage is concentrated Thor’s ribs, so Loki spends more time there, alternating between kissing the bruises and flicking his tongue over a nipple. 

Thor melts like butter under his ministrations, fingers of one hand threading absently through Loki’s damp hair. If Loki were a cat, he’d be purring out of pure satisfaction right now. Inside, he’s delighted that Thor’s enjoying this, because all he wants to do right now is make him feel good.

He sucks another bruise into the flesh on the inside of Thor’s thigh and watches, pleased, as Thor’s half-hard cock plumps up a little more. 

Thor's looking down at him when Loki glances up, lashes doing nothing to hide the desire in his eyes. Loki holds onto Thor's gaze when he shifts, lips brushing against the base of his cock, tongue darting out to lick a fat line up to the head. 

When he kisses the tip and precome bleeds into the seam of his lips, Thor murmurs his name like a prayer. 

Loki takes him into his mouth, moaning when Thor's girth stretches him open, instantly craving more of the salty tang spreading across his taste buds. 

He works Thor steadily, sliding down his length until dark, coarse hair tickles the tip of his nose. Hollowing his cheeks, Loki rises back up and drags the tip of his tongue across the dripping slit. Fuck, he tastes so good. 

Thor bites out a groan, abs tensing. The grip Thor has on his hair tightens and Loki grinds down into the mattress beneath him. 

He sucks on Thor's cock with so much enthusiasm that he fails to register the soreness of his jaw until Thor eases him off, thumbing at his cheek. 

“Baby, if you keep doing that, I'm gonna come.”

Loki looks down and sees how flushed Thor is, slick and wet from precome and saliva. He shudders at the sight, a hand closing around his own erection. 

“C’mere.”

Loki finds himself on his back again, lazily fisting Thor's cock as the latter reaches into a drawer for lube. 

“I want you to kiss me,” Loki says thickly, hyper-focused on the weight of Thor's dick in his hand and the shine of lube as it spreads over long, thick fingers. “Kiss me until I'm wet and open for you.”

Thor closes the distance between their mouths until their noses bump. “I can do that.”

And he does, claiming Loki’s mouth so thoroughly that all Loki knows is Thor. Everything else ceases to matter.

A slick digit caresses the furled clench of Loki’s hole until it relaxes enough for Thor to press in. He eats up the moan that Loki releases, grinds his hips down to slide their cocks together, and crooks his finger. 

Loki arches wordlessly beneath him, the line of his neck and hardness of his nipples a truly wonderful sight to witness. 

“You’re not kissing me,” Loki pants, clutching at Thor’s shoulder. 

Thor chuckles. “My mistake. Was distracted by nothing other than you.” 

He gives each flushed cheek a kiss before returning to Loki’s mouth. 

  
Three fingers in and Loki’s not so much kissing Thor back as he is simply letting have his mouth. He’s too overwhelmed to coordinate the movements of his lips, so he clings on to flexing muscles and shudders at every stroke of Thor’s fingertips over his prostate. 

“Thor,” he groans. “Thor.”

The emptiness he feels when Thor pulls his fingers out has him begging. 

“Thor, please –”

“I got you, baby. I got you.”

Thor makes quick work of the condom, pausing to thumb at Loki’s jaw before he’s sinking in, deeper and deeper into velvet heat until he bottoms out. 

One rock of Thor’s hips and Loki keens. 

“So good to me,” Thor sighs, pulling out and fucking back in with one smooth stroke. Loki chokes on air and his cock dribbles out a string of precome. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Loki feels his skewed glasses being righted, but he ignores that in favour of getting Thor’s cock to hit the very spot that makes him see stars. 

Their coupling doesn’t create fireworks, no. Instead, it burns like icy fire from the inside, all-consuming and alive. 

“Let me see those beautiful eyes, Lo.”

Loki’s eyes snap open and Thor wastes no time in showering them with compliments. They’re stunning, glimmering behind the lenses of his glasses, a dark green that the lushest rainforests could only dream of replicating. 

The pleasure builds steadily, Loki’s gasps and the sound of skin against skin the soundtrack to a wonderful night. Thor, feeling his orgasm creep up on him, reaches between them for Loki’s flushed cock, only to have his hand nudged aside.

“I want to come from your cock.”

At that, Thor’s hips stutter. “Christ.”

“Make me come, Thor.”

Who is he to deny what Loki wants? If Loki asked for the moon and the stars, Thor will find a way to give him the universe. 

Bracing his weight with a hand under each of Loki’s knees, Thor fucks into Loki’s pliant body faster, harder, and deeper. Loki, babbling an incoherent stream of (what sounds like) encouragement, pinches at his nipples until they ache – when Thor takes over, rubbing a nub with the flat of his thumb, Loki orgasms with a silent cry.

Come paints his torso in milky streaks and Thor manages a few more thrusts before he’s coming, too. Loki, feeling Thor pulse within him, moans weakly and squeezes out another drop of come from his spent cock. 

When Thor moves to pull out, Loki tightens his thighs around Thor’s waist and shakes his head. 

“Stay, for a while.”

After a bit of manoeuvring, Thor ends up on his back with Loki on his front, head pillowed on his chest. Thor sweeps fingers up and down the backs of Loki’s thighs and smiles into Loki’s hair when he hears a happy hum. 

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Loki says, reaching up to play with the short strands of Thor’s hair. “I was so scared when you didn’t report in.”

Thor sweeps Loki’s hair over to one side, revealing the tantalizing curve of a shoulder. Thor can’t help but kiss it. “Sorry I made you worry. You should know that your list really helped me though. I saw Harmon with a bunch of files – not suspicious at first glance, but I remembered she was on the list. Then I thought, why would a nurse who moonlights for an illegal fight club need proper documentation? Especially when the other nurse doesn’t have any of these papers?”

As Thor talks, Loki traces the outline of a large bruise along his ribs. 

“I fought, I won, and when my opponent was sent to Harmon, I decided to follow. I saw her flipping through her files and a small, clear box of silver crosses on a tray. She has an identical one around her neck. I wanted to keep an eye on her and get as much evidence as I could, so I stayed back. As soon as I saw her insert the cross, I went in – and so did the team. Didn’t realise so much time had passed until they showed up.”

“You figured out it was her by yourself?”

Feathers fluffed, Thor grins down at him. “I told you I’m good. But I couldn't have done it without your help.”

Rolling his eyes, Loki lifts his hips and lets Thor slip out of him. It’s just gross now, what with a condom filled with come. 

“I’ll let you have that one,” Loki says, rolling off the bed. He turns towards the bathroom and clicks his tongue when he hears Thor trying to follow. “Don’t move, you fool. You’re all battered and bruised; I’m taking care of you tonight.”

After Loki wipes come and lube off their bodies, they slip into their underwear and sweatpants – Loki borrows one of Thor’s and has to roll up the cuffs – before heading downstairs for some food. 

While Thor places an order with a nearby 24-hour pizzeria, Loki fills Mjolnir’s bowls and grabs a glass of water for himself. Outside, the sun is creeping up the horizon, sending amber streaking through the house. 

Loki takes a seat at the kitchen island, eyes on Thor as the latter bustles about the kitchen. Despite the bruises and the plethora of bandages, the man still looks like he could lift 100 pounds with one hand. Mjolnir pads over to Thor and Thor immediately crouches to give her attention, scratching behind her ears until her eyes slip shut and she smiles the cutest doggy smile Loki has ever seen. 

A big guy with an even bigger heart – Loki can’t deny the fact that he’s smitten. Not anymore.

“Will you dye your hair back to your original colour?”

Thor peers up at him. “You want me to?”

“I like you best when you’re you,” Loki says, trying his best for nonchalance. 

Of course, Thor sees right through him. 

“I’ll dye it back,” Thor promises, eyes twinkling. “In fact, how about this: after we eat, we’ll call in for a day off. Then we’ll go to bed, where we’ll cuddle and hopefully kiss a whole lot, and eventually fall asleep. We’ll wake up in the afternoon, eat a little more, I’ll dye my hair, then perhaps we’ll take Mjolnir out for a walk. I’ll cook you dinner and we’ll have ice cream straight out of the tub. You’ll spend the night here again, in my bed, in my arms. Then we’ll go to work together. How does that sound?”

Loki blushes over the rim of his glass. “Sounds wonderful.”

  
Somehow, the first person they bump into when they head into the building is none other than Tony Stark. 

“Well well well,” Tony grins. “If it ain’t everyone’s favourite power couple.” 

With a hearty guffaw, Thor slings an arm around Tony’s shoulders – the man’s knees buckle slightly with the added weight, much to Loki’s amusement – and steers him towards the elevators. 

“Stark! Great to see you, man. What are you doing here?”

“A little old birdie told me you caught that creepy son of a bitch. I’m here to watch the interrogation.”

Loki follows them into the elevator, where they find themselves squished towards the back as a dozen other people squeeze inside. “I have a feeling that the viewing room will be packed with people.” He turns to Thor, curious. “Will you be conducting the interrogation?”

“Yes, baby. Along with Heimdall.” 

The pet name comes so naturally that it takes Loki far too long to realise that Thor said it. _In public._ By the time he feels his cheeks heat up, Tony is already grinning like the Cheshire Cat while everyone else in the elevator pretends not to have heard a thing. 

Thor, of course, seems perfectly at ease with everything. 

“I see we’re already at –”

“One more word out of you and I will find a way to shut you up,” Loki threatens, glowering at the other man. “I am exceptionally skilled with a needle and thread, as I'm sure you know.”   
  
As Tony mimes locking his lips and tossing the key over his shoulder, Thor chuckles. _Curse him_ , Loki thinks, trying not to focus on the soothing sweep of Thor’s thumb across the jut of his hip. The whole office will know of this by the end of the day. 

  
There are over a dozen people on the other side of the two-way mirror. It’s a tight fit, but Loki manages to secure himself a front-row seat despite his height. With Shuri (she had asked to come along, and Loki couldn’t say no to her) to his right and Tony to his left, Loki watches, enraptured, as Thor and Heimdall enter the interrogation room. 

“He dyed his hair back already,” Bruce observes. 

“Good call,” Sif says, reaching over to prod Loki in the back. He flushes, able to hear the grin that he knows is plastered across her face.

The collar of Thor’s dress shirt is enough to hide the bruises left by Loki’s mouth, but no amount of concealer can hide the bruises on his face. Loki knows, because he was the one who spent half an hour painstakingly dabbing concealer onto Thor’s bruises this morning, trying to hide the worst of it while making sure it doesn’t look as though he slapped a whole bottle of foundation onto his face. 

As they watch, Heimdall takes a seat opposite Harmon while Thor leans against the farthest wall, quietly nursing a cup of shitty coffee. Heimdall opens one of the thickest case files Loki has ever seen, shuffling the pages and pulling out a stack of crime scene photos – the victims’ faces are clear. He lays them out, one by one, in chronological order.

Light bounces off the surface of the glossy paper. It’s only when Loki’s lungs start to ache does he realise he’s holding his breath. 

“So,” Heimdall finally says, voice crackling through the speaker. “Odinson. Where do you think we should begin?”

Thor moves, closing the distance between the wall and the table in two strides. He sets his coffee cup down next to Harmon and pulls out one of the empty chairs, straddling the seat and leaning forward just close enough to unsettle her. 

“I suppose,” Thor begins, “that we could start with the ‘why’?”

Harmon studies him, her expression unreadable. The silence stretches on for minutes, brittle and heavy, before she clears her throat and says in the evenest tone, “You should be _thanking_ me.”

“Ah,” Thor says, scratching absently at his jaw. “Is that so?”

She bristles, irritation flashing in her eyes. “Yes. I’m doing society a favour by cleansing the streets of these men, men who would not hesitate to hurt those around them. I’m _saving lives_ , Agents. I would think that you, of all people, would appreciate my work.”

Heimdall makes a non-committal noise and gestures to the photos. “Perhaps you’d like to elaborate on your… process.”

At that, she brightens visibly. The sight makes Loki’s skin crawl.

“Certainly.” She shifts in her seat, movement somewhat hindered by her shackled wrists and ankles. “As I’m sure you know,” she looks over at Thor, “a scan of your identity card is required for admittance into the fight club. I use that information to run a simple background check, mainly for rap sheets, after which I filter out those who have the highest chance of hurting others. The thing is, my shifts at the fight club are not on a fixed schedule, and neither are the matches.”

Thor nods, “That explains the lack of a pattern regarding the T.O.D. of your kills.”

“They are not _kills_ ,” Harmon snaps, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Without me, their souls would never be cleansed and they would never find redemption.”

“Right. My mistake.”

A beat, where Thor and Harmon refuse to be the first person to look away, then Harmon continues speaking. 

Over the course of twenty minutes, she recounts each murder in perfect detail, exhilaration riding high on her cheeks and sparking in her eyes. They learn that everything she does to her victims is her idea of a purification ritual, intended to purge each of them from their sins and to keep evil away. The five senses, the symbols, the little cross embedded in their flesh. 

When she starts talking about the fight between Thor and the fifth potential victim, saying how she was ready for either of them to be the next one she saved, Loki leaves the room. He has heard all he needed to hear. 

  
It’s probably late, not that Loki is good at keeping track of time. 

He’s sitting cross-legged in his chair, glasses threatening to slip down the bridge of his nose as he finishes yet another page of his report. Closing the door on this case is something Loki _needs_ to do, so he lets his fingers fly over the keyboard, content with the fact that each completed page is a page bringing him closer to the end. 

The doors slide open with a soft hiss and Loki vaguely registers someone walking in.

“You can have the day off tomorrow, Shuri. You’ve been a great –”

“Not Shuri,” Thor says, “but I’ll make sure to let her know later. She’ll be thrilled, I’m sure.”

At Thor’s voice, honey-sweet, Loki looks up from his computer screen. The sight of him, the shadow of his battered eye-socket and the soft set of his mouth, the raw strength in the muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt, the overwhelming fondness in his eyes – Loki’s throat knots up and he struggles to utter even a single syllable.

Thor closes the distance between them and crouches down in front of Loki, hands on the seat of his chair to keep him steady. 

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Loki replies automatically. “I –” He pauses, brow creasing as he stares down into Thor’s beautiful eyes. He swallows. “No, I’m not okay.”

To his surprise, Thor doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches up with a hand to thumb at the sharpness of Loki’s chin, before setting it down on Loki’s knee. 

“You could’ve been her next victim, Thor. She said it herself. It was between you and your opponent. If you had lost the fight, it would have been you.” His mouth is sandpaper dry. “It could –”

“I’m here,” Thor interjects gently, carefully prying Loki’s fingers free from the death grip they had around the armrest. He laces their fingers together, palms flush. “With you. Don’t think about the _if_ s, Lo. They don’t matter.”

Loki is prepared to argue, a retort already on his tongue and ready to be vocalised when he realises that Thor is right. With his free hand, he runs his index finger down the strong slope of Thor’s nose.

“You’re here with me.”

Thor smiles so brightly that Loki’s certain nothing else in this universe can compare. 

“The team’s going out for dinner to celebrate,” Thor says, nuzzling into Loki’s touch. “Join us? We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Loki agrees, unfolding his legs and letting Thor help him to his feet. 

“I heard,” Thor says, taking Loki’s hand in his as they walk out of the morgue, “that Stark will be there. I haven’t had the joy of drinking with him in years, not after he invited my family to the biggest farewell party I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how he did it, but he got Balder so wasted that my brother – who was madly in love with his then-girlfriend, mind you – willingly made out with Volstagg. I mean, sure, they were childhood friends and they’ve probably done some weird shit together, but they made out, in front of _hundreds_ of strangers. Balder still believes that Stark has video evidence of that lying around somewhere.”

Thor’s voice, deep and soothing, rolls over Loki in waves.

“That was… twelve years ago? Man, I’m a little scared for dinner, to be honest. Didn’t realise that moving here meant reuniting with the guy who has a liver made out of iron. Well, I suppose that –”

“Thor?”

“Hmm?”

In the elevator, the fluorescent lights do nothing to wash out the healthy, sun-kissed glow of Thor’s skin, half-hidden by concealer and bruises. Loki thinks he’s beautiful.

“Kiss me.”

And Thor does, large hands fitted around Loki’s narrow waist, mouth soft and loving against Loki’s own. Loki smiles against Thor’s lips and feels Thor smile right back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Depending on how well this is received, I may write a prequel of sorts, focusing on Thor's life before he transferred!
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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